


Visitation

by Accio_Me



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, Friendship, Gen, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2018-08-22 15:18:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 84,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8290679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accio_Me/pseuds/Accio_Me
Summary: What would you do if you were to find out that your whole life you weren't alone?





	1. The Final Battle

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I started ages ago. There's some Ron bashing involved. Now, I like Ron! I just wanted to mix it up a little. Also, there are a few very detailed scenes, just for your information.
> 
> I will update this story weekly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter! Yay :D
> 
> Enjoy reading!

**The Final Battle**

Everything around him was covered in dirt, and smoke was everywhere. Smoky tables, which had been thrown into the corridors, smashing the windows of the classrooms, smoky holes in the walls, where dark curses had blasted off parts of the walls. Bleeding bodies of nameless students, parents, Death Eaters, who had been slain by parts of the ceiling falling down or collapsing pillars and walls, hit by dark curses or had been the victim of sneakily used light curses or spells. Wherever you looked, you saw death and destruction.

The Hogwarts that everyone knew did not exist anymore. If one had been able to watch the sunrise with a smile on their face just a few months ago, it would become very clear that many students would never be able to experience it in the future, seeing the state of horror the castle was in just moments after the war had ended. Even the birds seemed to mourn as none of them welcomed the beginning of a new day. It was dead silent.

Harry dragged himself through a corridor that had been destroyed by a giant, climbed over debris and stumbled along the wall, panting, wincing in pain. He had to make it to the Trophy Room. Despite the incredibly sever pain, he moved forward and stumbled, barely keeping himself upright. Something lay at his feed, blocking his path. When he looked down, he felt sick. Parvati Patil. Her brown eyes stared at him motionlessly, condemning him. The war was won and yet they had lost so much – allies, friends, family. Innocent lives had been taken and he had been entangled in the centre of the fight – he had been the cause of the fight, of the whole war and he also had had to sacrifice so much.

He desperately clung to the corridor wall. He couldn’t go any further. He would not make it to the Trophy Room. Panting, he pushed his with blood encrusted hand onto the gaping wound that was the right half of his abdomen. He did not know anymore whose blood was on his hands. He had lost track years ago. His parents had just been the beginning and yet it seems to him that this particular sacrifice had been the major one he had had to endure; the two people who had given him his life and had paid for it with their own.

He cursed as his legs gave way. Had he only been watchful like Mad-Eye had always tried to hammer into his thick brain again and again. Because of his little mishap, because of that one careless moment he was now trying desperately to haul himself into the Trophy Room and doing as much as humanly possible to spare himself as to not tear the gaping flesh wound covering his side any further.

He had just won the battle against Lord Voldemort and had watched as the body of the probably most powerful dark wizard had fallen as a black curse had knocked him to the ground. One of the few Death Eaters who had survived had not been able to bear the fall of his master and therefore the fall of his radical views. He had shot the curse toward the wizarding world’s saviour, laughing madly and giving the hero a life-threatening injury. But no one had noticed – no one except the victim. Harry had heard cries of joy when he had suddenly felt a sharp flash of pain. As he had pushed his hand, which had been trapped between his body and the muddy, bloody ground, onto his stomach, he had noticed that the soil had been getting wetter under him. The survivors had begun to carry the dead and injured into the castle and had paid no attention whatsoever when he had hauled himself up the stairs, groaning in agony, had stumbled through the entrance hall and had crawled up the marble staircase.

Why would they give him another second of their attention? He had fulfilled his destiny, his task, which had been placed into his crib even before his birth. He had fought to protect his life and that of everyone in the wizarding world his entire life, just to die at the right moment. He had been nothing more than a pawn of the magical world – a person on whom one could put one’s frustration, one that one could accuse and condemn because this person did not have anyone in their life that would provide any kind of comfort or sense of security anyway. Why should it even be like that? If a soldier had distractions in the form of feelings, which did not express the desire or need for revenge or hatred, he would lose the sight of his goal and might even dare to be a normal person. No, that could not be allowed in any way, kind or form. Not if there was another way; even if this way would cause the individual the unbearable pain of loss and loneliness.

Harry could only guess where the others were at the moment, but to be completely honest, he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered now was to get to the Trophy Room. He knew that he did not have much longer to live anymore and he just wanted to see a picture of his parents one last time before he was ready to see them again in heaven or wherever they were. His parents had been Head Students and therefore there was a photograph of them in school uniform with their badges pinned to the front of their robes in the Trophy Room, just like any other Head, who had worn the badge before and after them, as well as photographs of the Quidditch teams. He wanted to see his true family one last time; the people who had loved him more than anything. But he could not do it.

He fell to the ground and let out a blood-curling scream as a broken clinker pressed into his wound.

*~*HP*~*

Some floors below in the Great Hall the injured were being cared for and the last dead bodies were being carried inside. The Weasleys had gathered around one of their sons. Fred had died in battle, the laughter still on his face. _Ironic_ , Hermione thought. _He died at the same moment in which a family member had returned._ She wiped the tears from her eyes, only to find others following and running down her cheeks.

It was over. They had made it – _Harry_ had made it. At that thought, she sat up. _Harry._ She had not seen him since the final battle. All the things she had felt at that moment had completely distracted her from the happenings around her. Mourning the dead, joy for Harry’s victory, but mostly gratefulness that Harry had survived. When Voldemort had emerged from the forest, being followed and surrounded by his Death Eaters, she had seen Harry’s motionless body in Hagrid’s arms… She stifled a sob. _He’s alive_ , she thought and took a deep, calming breath. _He’s alive and safe._ But as much as she held onto that thought, something told her that his absence could mean nothing good.

_Calm down, Hermione. All is well. What could possibly have happened? All Death Eaters are either dead or on the run and Voldemort is guaranteed to not rise again._

_And why exactly are you that restless then?_

_I’m not restless!_

_Oh, yes. You are! And you have every reason to be. After all, you have no idea where Harry is at the moment._

_I’m sure he just wanted to have some time for himself. I mean, after all, he has just survived the Killing Curse. He has every right to be a little upset and therefore he’s allowed to retreat to a calmer place._

_And why did you not see him as he left? And why has nobody congratulated him? And most importantly, why haven’t you been the first one who was with him after he had defeated Voldemort?_

_Well, we couldn’t congratulate him, because he no longer –_

_Wrong! You were much too busy falling around Ron’s neck and rejoice the fact that he’s still alive. From the beginning, he has had a better chance of survival than you and Harry put together!_

_Why shouldn’t I be happy that Ron –_

_I didn’t say that you aren’t allowed to be happy about that, but being you, I would maybe start thinking about what happened to Harry rather than just standing here, mourning someone you barely knew._

_Fred is Ron’s brother! Why should I not… Oh God, now I’m having a fight with myself._

_Well, it has already come to that, hasn’t it?_

_Shut up!_

“Ron?” she turned to the Weasleys, who grieved for their son and brother. “Do you know where Harry is? Have you seen him after Voldemort’s fall?”

Ron turned around and glared at her, eyes swollen and red. “No, I have _not_ seen your precious Harry, Hermione!”

Confused, she blinked at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what that’s supposed to mean,” he hissed and stood up. Mrs Weasley shot him an angry look. “My brother has just died, Hermione! Right now I have other problems to deal with than worrying about Harry!”

“But Ron, Harry is our best friend! He doesn’t have anybody else with whom he could possibly share his grief. He only has us!”

“Then go! Go find the oh so sad Harry and offer him my condolences, will you? And while you’re at it, tell him he has no right to act like this because he has no freakin’ idea how it feels, okay? _You_ have no idea what I am going through right now, Hermione!”

“He _does_ know how it feels, Ronald! He has lost _every single one_ who meant something to him. And now _you_ attack him from behind!”

“ _I_ attack _him_ from behind? What has he ever done for me, huh? He hasn’t even told you to leave with me back in the forest! He hasn’t even _tried_ to talk us out of hiding with him, of going on a suicide mission from what we’ve known at that point!”

“Of course he hasn’t tried to dissuade us! _He needed us_!”

“Pff, as if,” Ron rolled his eyes and knelt beside his dead brother again to hold his now cold hand.

“You know what? I’m going to look for Harry because no one here seems to be the slightest bit interested in how he’s doing and where he is!”

With that, she spun around and stormed out of the Great Hall. She ignored Ron’s angry shouts and rushed through the large double doors of the castle, turned right and ran to the Black Lake.  In previous years, Harry had often sought refuge at the lake whenever he had wanted to be alone and think. She had never disturbed him, but had sometimes watched to see where he had been going. Especially after Cedric’s death, he had often come to the lake, sat on a flat stone at the shore and had spend hours staring at the clear, black water surface. Whenever she had been looking for him, she had been able to find him here.

Hermione went around the last tree and stopped abruptly. The stone was empty. The only thing that was different here and pointed to the events of the last few hours was a pool of blood on the floor next to the stone. A few meters away lay a dead centaur. Hermione groaned as she saw the motionless body. She closed her eyes for a short moment and took a deep breath. _Just stay calm, Hermione. Take a deep breath. Ignore the dead body in front of you. Concentrate on Harry._ Sighing, she looked up and stared at the blood-red sunrise, which was reflected on the clear, flat surface of the lake. Where could Harry be?

 _Okay. Let’s just think logically for a moment. Places he likes to go to, where he feels safe…_ Hermione frowned. _Well, it isn’t the lake. Maybe he is on the Quidditch Pitch?_ But even that proved to be false. Hermione desperately ran back to the castle. Where did Harry like to be? The Room of Requirement? _No, not that I know of. Hm…_  She jogged up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and turned right. Perhaps the Common Room. After all, Hogwarts is Harry’s first real home.

With quick steps, she hurried toward a portrait of an old man counting his Gobstones, which immediately swung open to reveal a secret passageway. She hurried up the stairs and whirled around the corner. The corridor which she had just reached led to some classrooms, the Trophy Room and the Grand Staircase, and was totally destroyed. Parts of the walls and the ceiling were scattered all over the bloody floor, old tables, chairs and shelves were peeking through holes, behind which there had once been functioning classrooms. Even the walls had bloody fingerprints and splashes of blood on them that trickled toward the floor. Horrified, Hermione looked around. The corridor looked like a battlefield. As if the final battle had taken place here and not on the grounds outside of the castle.

Slowly and carefully, Hermione crept forward. She stepped over large pieces of stone, tattered chairs and bodies of dead students, Death Eaters and probably parents as well. Some of the faces were covered in blood, others were almost completely clean. Her eyes widened as she stared into those of Parvati Patil.

“Parvati,” Hermione whispered and dropped to her knees beside her. “Oh my God, no!”

A sob wrecked through her and she slapped her hand over her mouth. _No! Stand up! You have to find Harry!_ She said to herself and picked herself up off the ground, trembling slightly. She was so incredibly tired. To hide for months on end, without eating proper food or sleeping more than three hours a night, with the constant fear of being caught – it all took its toll on her. Now that all the adrenaline was out of her system, she could barely stand straight.

She turned away from Parvati, but not before having closed her eyes. Bodies were lying everywhere. Some were missing limbs, others were looking as if they were asleep. She continued to move down the corridor, her eyes never leaving the ground in front of her as to not run into someone or something or slipping on one of the countless puddles of blood - and that’s when she saw him. A couple of meters ahead of her someone lay crumbled on the floor, clothes bloodstained and hair suspiciously jet-black and unruly.

“HARRY!”

She rushed over to him, not bothering whether she had a dead body under her feed or whether she fell over a piece of ceiling. “HARRY!”

She threw herself down next to the boy with jet-black hair and turned him onto his back. His face was relatively clean, but extremely pale. He had some wounds on his forehead and scratches on his cheek, a little bit of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. But she could say without any trouble whatsoever, who she was holding in her arms at this moment, sobbing and desperately trying to wake him up.

“Harry! Please, please stay with me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!
> 
> Please leave a comment and stay tuned for more! This story is nearly finished, so you'll get updates once a week :)
> 
> Until next time - see ya :D


	2. The Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy reading :D

**The Conversation**

_Beep, beep, beep, beep…_

“Hurry!”

“I’m trying, but the bleeding won’t stop!”

“We have to stop the bleeding!”

“The spell doesn’t work!”

“It _has_ to work!”

“ _Accio_ bandage!”

“We’re losing him!”

It hadn’t been more than ten minutes ago that she had found Harry on the floor of the corridor with a gaping flesh wound on his side, had grabbed him and had apparated both of them into the lobby of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Less than two minutes after she had found him, he had been torn from her arms and transported to the emergency room under the supervision of five healers. Ten minutes ago, she had still held him in her arms and had pushed the healer away from herself, who had tried in vain to persuade her to leave, but she remained stubbornly seated on the floor, hands red and shiny from his blood and trembling with exhaustion. Again and again, healers ran from the emergency room and came back with a colleague seconds later. Each time the door opened and a healer came out, the facial expressions were tense, even more so than the time before. She could literally see the panic written in those numerous worry lines on the foreheads and the straightness of the lips. Countless injured people arrived in the lobby, some with a head wound, some limping, some unconscious and with attendance. But no one looked as terrible as Harry. She couldn’t erase that sight from her memory. She could not forget how he had lain in her arms, pale, motionless and barely breathing.

Trembling, she inhaled the of disinfectant smelling hospital air. She felt sick. She could not believe it had come to this. She had always thought they would make it – together. They would go through thick and thin, overcome all difficulties together and yet – now she was sitting on the floor of the entrance hall of the magical hospital, shivering, trembling, covered in blood and barely able to think straight with fear. On the battlefield in the centre of the turmoil she had not had any problems with concentration. Her life and that of everyone else had been at stake, but she had managed to think clearly, to plan and to act accordingly. But now, even though she was meant to be relieved that they had survived and the pressure and looming danger had been lifted off of her shoulders, she could not think clearly. Her best friend was fighting for his life right now, possibly even dying and she couldn’t do anything more than to stare at the healers leaving the room in which the most empathic and kind person she knew was fighting for his life, and register that the hospital staff continuously grew more panicky every time they left the emergency ward. She could hear pieces of bellowed commands, but her brain could not put this information in logical order. It just couldn’t be! It just _mustn’t_ be! Harry mustn’t die! He was the ‘boy-who- _lived_ ’! Not the ‘boy-who-died’!

She did not even notice that someone staggered in her direction, having extreme difficulties walking and fell over her outstretched legs. She did not even notice that that specific someone let loose a barrage of swear words in her direction. She didn’t notice when another healer rushed over to where she was rooted on the floor, helped the fallen person on their feed and shot her a dark look. She didn’t care what other people thought of her. She didn’t care how long she had already been sitting on the icy marble floor. She just wanted that Harry got better, that he was able to survive. She wanted his heart to continue beating! With a dry sob, she pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs. She rocked gently back and forth without ever taking her eyes off of the door to the emergency room.

*~*HP*~*

“How is he?”

Hermione spun around in her seat next to Harry’s bed and stared at Ginny Weasley.

“What does it look like?” she muttered. She turned back to her best friend, who was lying in the bed before her, deathly pale. “If he survives the night, he should get through.”

“That’s good to hear,” Ginny sniffled and walked slowly around the bedside to sit at Harry’s right side, across from Hermione. “You know, I never stopped believing in him,” she whispered as a tear ran down her cheek.

Hermione looked at her, puzzled.

“I know he broke up, but that was only because of the war,” Ginny stared Hermione right in the eyes as if to challenge her to claim otherwise. “I’ve been waiting for him. All year long. I had no idea how he – you – have been, but there weren’t any news that you had been caught and killed, so I figured you were doing all right. I mean, Harry’s good at curses, you’re brilliant with spells and Ron… well, he’s just Ron. I knew you’d make it. And I hope that when Harry wakes up, we can start over from where we have left off before the war,” she smiled fondly at the quite dead-looking teenager in the hospital bed between them. “We just have to.”

Hermione gulped. Ginny and Harry? Together?

She looked down at her best friend, who looked almost too small and fragile in the oversized bed. His skin looked unhealthily greyish in comparison to the white pillow and blanket. Was she capable of imagining Harry and Ron’s little sister getting back together again? If she was completely honest with herself, no. To her, it had always seemed as if Harry thought the relationship with Ginny to be some kind of escape from reality – a way for him to shirk his responsibility and duty, even if it was only for a few hours at a time.

During sixth year after Harry and Ginny had been together for a few weeks, she had talked to him about it. She had wanted to know whether he had been happy, because if one deserved to be happy, it was Harry James Potter. They had been sitting on the couch at night in front of the fire and had talked for hours. Ron had left just as he had found out the topic of their conversation, muttering something about Wizard’s Chess and had climbed up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. That night, Harry had told her that he didn’t know what to make out of his relationship with the fiery redhead. He had told her that he had been sure at the beginning that Ginny had been ‘The One’ for him. After all, he had smelled her in his Amortentia. That had to mean something, right? But then again, he hadn’t felt completely comfortable in this relationship. She had asked for more than he had wanted to give her.

 _‘I’m just not ready yet! I don’t want to give that to just any girl,’_ he had indicated quotation marks with his fingers, _‘but to someone special. Someone with whom I feel completely at ease. Don’t get me wrong, I like Ginny, very much so, but I don’t know whether that’s enough for the long run. I don’t want to hurt her. She doesn’t deserve that.’_

Hermione sighed. Harry was a good-hearted person, who wanted to please everyone. He didn’t deserve a life like that and when she listened to her heart and not her brain, she didn’t want him to get back together with Ginny. Sure, Ginny still had hope and Harry had sometimes searched the Marauder’s Map for what seemed to be the location of the girls’ dormitory whenever he had thought she had been asleep. But those moments had occurred more frequently in the time after Ron had accused him of not caring about who died and why. She assumed that it had been the guilt impelling Harry to act like that.

And the thing with the Amortentia… when they had covered that potion in class, she had done a lot of research. Such powerful potions fascinated her and she had wanted to find out exactly how this potion worked. During her research she had read that it was indeed possible that the special scent of the potion could change during the life of the wizard or witch smelling it. It didn’t happen that often, but it was still possible. She hoped that this was the case with Harry.

“You’ll have to ask him when he wakes up,” Hermione said, unintentionally malicious. She liked Ginny, but she did not like how she treated her Harry. Wait a minute, _her_ Harry?

Ginny looked up and blinked. She looked as if she had forgotten that she was not alone with Harry. Hermione silently thanked whoever was listening that she had not heard the anger in her voice. “Oh, yes, I’ll probably do that.”

Hermione watched the youngest Weasley with narrowed eyes as she leaned down to Harry and kissed him on his scratched cheek.

“He will say yes,” she murmured, more to herself than to Hermione. “You will, won’t you, darling?” she smiled at him, ran her hand through his tousled hair one last time and stood up with a sigh.

“I have to go home again. Mum wasn’t exactly thrilled when I told her I was going to pay Harry a visit. She’s a bit confused at the moment, what with Fred and all that.” She sniffed and ran a hand over her red eyes.

“Well, she is of the opinion that we should leave him alone so he can get better,” she rolled her eyes. “As if that would work.”

She kissed Harry on the forehead, waved Hermione goodbye and disappeared quickly from the ICU.

Hermione snorted. _Some girlfriend! Makes sure he’s still alive, talks about undying love and disappears in the next moment, because she has better things to do that to sit by the bed of a sick person lying in a coma._

She smiled sadly at Harry and gently squeezed his hand, which she held in hers. “I’ll stay here, Harry. I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise you that.”

*~*HP*~*

Throughout the weeks, many people came by to see how the ‘boy-who-lived-and-conquered’ was doing. Throngs of reporters cavorted in front of the hospital room to which Harry had been taken after two nights in intensive care.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had ensured that two Aurors were positioned in front of the door leading to Harry’s room. Their job was to make sure that no uninvited guests managed to get into the room and get a glimpse of the still unconscious saviour of the wizarding world. The only ones who were allowed to see him were the Weasleys, school friends like Neville Longbottom or Seamus Finnigan and people of the Order, as well as teachers of Hogwarts. All of them had brought flowers and chocolate on their first visit, hoping against hope that Harry could wake up at any moment, which had resulted in the healers being forced to transfer all of the flower arrangements and packages of chocolate from the sickroom, as there had been no free surface left where the healers could have possibly put their medicines and potions on to.

Since Harry’s surgery three weeks ago, Hermione had not once left his bedside or let go of his hand, unless one considered one-minute bathroom breaks as leaving him. After the healers had tried in vain to convince her of a short trip to the cafeteria to get something to eat and drink, they changed over to bringing her food to Harry’s bedside as Hermione wouldn’t budge. One could believe she lived in this room.

Sleeping she did very little and once she did actually manage to fall and stay asleep for more than thirty minutes at a time without a nightmare to rip her brutally into awareness, screaming and crying, she lay with her head on Harry’s mattress, his hand still held firmly in hers.

“Hermione, dear. Please come to the cafeteria with me,” said Molly Weasley, who had tried to get her to move for the last couple of hours. “It does you no good to stay seated in one spot, barely moving at all and hardly eating anything.”

“I eat enough,” Hermione muttered in response. She didn’t have the slightest interest in leaving this room, which was now as familiar to her as her parents’ home near London.

“Please,” Mrs Weasley put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it lightly. “It will do you good to see something else than this room and I don’t think that Harry would want you to stop living. Look, it doesn’t have to be for long, but please come to the cafeteria with me.”

“And what if he wakes up?” Hermione quickly wiped one hand over her eyes to prevent Molly from seeing the tears gathering in her brown eyes. “I promised him I’ll be there when he wakes up.”

“I’m sure the healers will let us know immediately when something is happening. We’ll tell them where to find us. Nothing will happen to him, dear,” she added tenderly as she heard a sniffle coming from Hermione’s direction.

It broke her heart to see the girl she considered her second daughter suffer that much. Every time she paid a visit to her unofficially adopted son, Hermione sat by his bed, holding his hand and whispering things to him – the events of the day, who had already been visiting, and how much she hoped that he would finally wake up. The tears she shed had become less, but they were still there. Just like now.

“Alright,” Hermione sniffled and took a deep breath. She looked at Harry’s pale face and gave him a light kiss on his hand. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to the cafeteria to stretch my legs for a bit. I’ll be back before you wake up.”

She smiled sadly at her best friend and stood up, a little wobbly from the hard old wooden chair she had hardly ever left in the last three weeks.

“Okay,” she said, smiling at Mrs Weasley. “Let’s go.”

*~*HP*~*

“Has Ron said anything?” Hermione picked up her fork and pronged a noodle. They were sitting in the crowded cafeteria of the hospital and tried to ignore the reporters standing at the entrance of the cafeteria, calling out to ask them questions about Harry’s well-being.

Molly sighed and took a sip of her tea. “You know Ronald. He says things he doesn’t mean. But he did ask how Harry was. And you.”

Hermione laughed contemptuously and maltreated her turkey cutlet with a little too much violence.

“That’s the least he can do! Harry’s been in a coma for three weeks now and that idiot of a best friend doesn’t think it necessary to stop by and see for himself how Harry’s doing. Honestly, sometimes I don’t know why I’m dating such an ass at all,” she blurted out angrily and promptly blushed bright red when she realized who was sitting across from her. “Oh, Mrs Weasley, I’m sorry, I –“

“It’s quite all right, my dear,” Mrs Weasley smiled at her over the edge of her tea cup.

“Don’t worry, I’m of the same opinion. I don’t understand why he doesn’t even put an effort in at least looking like he’s interested in his well-being. Since he has known Ron, Harry has always been a good friend and now he is the one needing help and my son immediately lets him down and lets the information be relayed to him. At least that’s what he does.”

Mrs Weasley shook her head. “I just don’t understand it. Harry is his first and best friend and what does he behave like towards him? That’s not what I’ve taught him, you can believe me.”

“Ron can be a little stubborn,” Hermione muttered, thinking of all the situations in which Ron had disagreed with her and had unintentionally hurt her by saying or doing something uncalled for.  All these situations had ended with her sitting on her bed or in an abandoned classroom and crying her eyes out.

“And that’s put nicely,” Mrs Weasley glared at her piece of cheesecake. “So, he hasn’t got in touch with you, I suppose?”

“No,” Hermione sighed and rubbed her exhausted eyes. “I don’t know whether that is because I’m not home and his letters didn’t get through or –“

“Oh, believe me, if he had sent a letter, it would have arrived. St. Mungo’s has a mail department, like any magical institute.”

“Then he hasn’t contacted me,” Hermione said soberly. “I think he is jealous. That I’m with Harry and not with him, I mean.”

Mrs Weasley looked up in surprise.

“Three weeks ago, shortly after Voldemort had been defeated, I have asked Ron whether he had seen Harry and he has responded very weirdly and aggressively. I mean, sure, we all mourned… Fred,” she said shyly and saw Mrs Weasley smiling sadly, “but I don’t think that has been the main reason. Harry has lost people who meant something to him nearly every single year his whole life long and he has never been aggressive towards us.  Sure, after Cedric’s death in fourth year he has been different and more aggressive but that hasn’t been his fault but Voldemort’s.”

“It could very well be that my son is jealous. It has never been one of his strengths, being able to control negative feelings,” she laughed and squeezed Hermione’s hand.

“I say this quite reluctantly now, because as a mother I should support my children,” she winked at the younger witch sitting across from her, “but I am also a woman and have my own opinion. I want to tell you if you don’t feel comfortable being in a relationship with my Ronald or if you cannot or don’t want to cope with his mood swings, I’d understand it if you broke it off. It sure must be weird to hear me talking like that,” she added, as Hermione, astonished that the older woman had just practically told her to feel free to break up with her son, opened her mouth to reply, “but I think it’s completely wrong and unacceptable how he treats you and Harry.”

Hermione looked down at her plate and smiled slightly. “That’s good to know.”

After a few seconds her eyes searched those of the kind witch opposite her. “Thank you, Mrs Weasley.”

“No matter, dear,” she responded with a smile and squeezed her hand again. “Besides, I think that you and Harry would make a better couple anyway.”

“ _Excuse me_?” Hermione choked on a noodle and blushed furiously. Gently, Molly slapped her on the back and watched in amusement as Hermione came back to breathing normally and staring at her as if she had gone mad.

“What? What did you just say?”

“Oh, now don’t act as if you haven’t already thought about that!”

Hermione looked at her taken aback. Her? Thinking about it? About Harry and… She gulped. Where had _that_ come from all of a sudden?

Mrs Weasley seemed to have read her thoughts because she smiled at her lovingly. “It is obvious, Hermione.”

“Excuse me? What?” Hermione’s eyes widened even further.

“The way you look at him, the way you never leave his side, not being with your boyfriend, even though he’s not exactly striving after your attention,” she added contritely, watching her son’s girlfriend, who stared at her with eyes twice their normal size, cheeks bright red and mouth hanging wide open.

Molly giggled. “I see, you need more time to see the signs for what they are yourself,” with a wink, she stood up, lifted the tray with the plate and cup on it and looked down at the still petrified Hermione. “Are you coming, my dear? Harry’s waiting.”

“W-What? Oh, um, yeah, I’m coming,” she shook her head to dispel all of her confused, fragmented thoughts and stood up.

Now was not the time to sit around in the cafeteria, confused and not knowing what to do, a few floors above the room in which her unconscious best friend was lying. She blinked. _Best_ friend? Was that really what she wanted?

*~*HP*~*

_There was dead silence. The only thing that could be heard was the agonized voices of those who had been injured and were now being carried into the Great Hall. Hermione helped Neville to get up from the ground without further straining his bloody ankle when she saw movement at the edge of the Forbidden Forest._

_“What’s wrong, Hermione?” Neville winced as he tried to stand on his right foot._

_“Do you see that? At the edge of the forest,” she asked, pointing in said direction just as black figures appeared from the darkness of the Forbidden Forest._

_It was impossible to say how many were moving towards them because with their dark cloaks, it looked as if they would melt together with the surrounding darkness. She could barely make out any contours._

_As the first person reached the meadow they were standing on, they were lightened by the first rays of sunlight. She gasped. Voldemort. Clothed in a long, black cloak, white snake face distorted to a grinning grimace and next to him his huge snake. It glided through sooty, dead grass, where spells and curses had burned it. Behind them, dozens of witches and wizards followed. Death Eaters. The white masks in their hands at their sides._

_But what tore her attention away from them was Hagrid. The gamekeeper had ropes and chains wrapped around his neck and limbs, as if he were a dragon that had to be restrained, or a disobedient dog. His face was dirty and encrusted with dried blood. And in his arms he held…_

_“HARRY!” Hermione spun around just fast enough to see Mr Weasley looping his arm around Ginny’s waist and pulling her backwards._

_The grin on Voldemort’s face became even wider. “Harry Potter… is dead!”_

“NO!”

With a scream, she sat up and regained her balance just in time to prevent the wooden chair she was still seated on from toppling over and taking her along.

Panting, she sat next to Harry’s bed and tried to calm down.

“Just a dream. It was just a dream,” she murmured to herself and closed her eyes. “Just a dream. It’s over. Harry’s alive.”

She looked up and stared at the motionless body of her best friend in the bed in front of her, taking comfort in the soft rising and falling of his chest.

“He’s alive”, she whispered and smiled weakly.

The clock on the bedside table told her it was three in the morning. She had slept a total of two hours.

Wearily, she rubbed her eyes. _Two hours._

The day before, after leaving the cafeteria with Mrs Weasley and pushing through the masses of press people, she had immediately taken off to hurry to Harry’s room, only to find out that now that no one had sat at his bedside to make sure that absolutely no one could get through to the saviour of the wizarding world, the two Aurors had had serious problems to hold the reporters at bay, who had tried to get a first look and an exclusive picture of the comatose war hero.

As Hermione had rushed toward the throng of reporters, she had only managed by force to squeeze through the press people, to open the door and slam it shut as soon as she had entered the room, even before the reporters could have done more than scream, “Hermione Granger! That’s Hermione Granger!”

Now she was sitting next to Harry and wished for nothing more than to finally gaze into his bright green eyes, to admire his smile and to have the feeling as if he squeezed her hand very lightly.

Hermione froze. _Wait a second._

Aghast, she stared at Harry’s hand, which she held firmly in hers, like always, and held her breath. There it was again! At first one finger, then two, and finally all five closed around her hand and squeezed ever so slightly.

Hermione stifled a shriek and whirled around to press the emergency button that would summon a healer.

“Please! Come quickly! Harry’s waking up! He’s waking up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank Merlin, he's alright!
> 
> I hope you liked it! Leave a comment and tell me what you think!
> 
> Until next time - see ya! :D


	3. In the Eye of the Hurricane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three. Enjoy :D

**In the Eye of the Hurricane**

“Harry? Harry, can you hear me?”

Hermione’s whole body was tense, muscles rigid as she sat on the edge of the old wooden chair and stared at her best friend, who was still lying before her, pale and motionless.

_But he has just moved! I’ve definitely noticed! It’s impossible that I’ve imagined that!_

Hermione’s mind was racing. It was now about a month ago that she had fought for a better future at Harry and Ron’s side and had seen Harry on his feet and conscious. But he had just squeezed her hand!

“Miss?”

Hermione jumped as two healers, a man and a woman, came rushing into the room, both heavily laden with potions, some of which she identified as energy potions and nutrients solutions. She knew most of them, but not every single one.

“You said he’s waking up? What happened?”

“Um, yes! I was sitting here and like always held onto his hand and suddenly he moved a finger, than another one, and then he squeezed my hand! Not tightly, mind you, but he did squeeze it!”

“Please step aside, Ms Granger,” said the serious looking healer as his colleague at Harry’s right side began to mutter diagnosis spells and let her wand wander over Harry’s body in complicated twirls. He put the potions which he was still holding onto down, leaned over the bed-head of Harry’s bed and lifted an eyelid to direct _Lumos_ into his bright green eye.

Hermione stood in the corner of the room, trembling and watched in silence as the healers did their job. Could it really be happening? Could she dare to hope?

“’Mione?”

Hermione jumped when she heard his low, raspy voice and hurried precipitately to the bed. “Harry? I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

The healer, who had been leaning over Harry drew back with a soft smile on his lips and turned to Hermione. “I think, we’ll give you two a little privacy. If anything should happen, if he gets sick or disorientated, please call us immediately.”

“I will, sir. Thank you.”

The moment the healers had left the room, Hermione turned and beamed when she saw that Harry’s eyes were slightly open and examining her tiredly. He was still pale, although not quite as sickly looking like a couple of days before, but he didn’t exactly look healthy either.

“Hey,” Hermione smiled at him tenderly and sat down on the chair next to his bed. “How are you?”

Harry grumbled and closed his eyes. He was very weak. “As if I’ve been run over and roasted by a horde of angry dragons,” he whispered. A small smile graced his lips as he looked at her again. “And you? You look exhausted.”

“You are one to talk,” she laughed. “You are the one lying in a hospital bed.”

Harry smiled at her sheepishly. “That doesn’t mean that I’m not worried.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, unable to suppress a smile. _Typical. He’s in hospital after he almost died and he’s the one who’s worried about me._

“I’m fine, now that you’re awake.”

She looked down at their intertwined hands and felt her eyes sting. Quickly she ran her other hand over her face and laughed sheepishly. She hoped Harry would be too exhausted to see the tears that slowly but surely began to gather in her eyes. She smiled at him and was horrified to see his eyebrows furrow as his eyes closed. “Are you in pain?”

“What?” Harry blinked and shook his head. _Oh, I shouldn’t do that_ , he thought as the ceiling started to spin.

“Uh, no,” he said, closing his eyes again as he tried to fight the urge to vomit.

“Why are you crying?” he whispered so quietly that Hermione had to lean forward in order to understand the uttered words.

She immediately turned bright red. “I’m not crying,” she said, hastily wiping over her eyes.

Harry smiled tentatively. “If you say so. Since when am I in here anyway?”

Hermione swallowed. “For about a month.”

“For… a month?” Harry looked over to her, horrified. “I was unconscious for a month?”

“You were in a coma,” Hermione whispered in reply and looked down at their hands again that were still resting on Harry’s bedspread. “I never left your side, though.”

She blinked through her lashes over at Harry, who looked at her with an expression on his face she couldn’t interpret.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

“I know that, but I wanted to.”

Smiling, she watched as Harry struggled with his heavy eyelids and muttered something she didn’t understand anymore. In the next moment he was asleep.

“Get some rest, Harry. And don’t worry,” she whispered to the sleeping boy in front of her and kissed him gently on the forehead. “I’ll stay with you.”

*~*HP*~*

A week later, Harry was released from the hospital. He was still weak, but was able to walk and stay conscious for more than four hours at a time. The healers gave him a lot of potions which Hermione immediately put into a small travel bag.

“And this one you are to take three times a day,” said the healer and pushed a bluish potion into his hands. “A teaspoon should be enough. If you should be particularly tired, you can take four doses, but no more. The potion is addictive, so I want you to get examined again in two weeks. It doesn’t matter whether the potion still works or not. Understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Harry nodded and took the last potion, which Hermione immediately touched with the tip of her wand to jot down the instructions onto the bottle and stowed it in the travel bag with the other bottles of medicine.

“Very well. That’s everything. Get well soon, Mr Potter.” The healer smiled at him, shook his and Hermione’s hand and left the two alone.

“Shall we?” Hermione picked the bag up and pointed to the door through which the healer had just disappeared a few seconds ago.

Harry nodded, took the bag with the potions out of Hermione’s hand, ignored her protest and made to leave the room. He had scarcely opened the door when they were greeted with flashes of light and excited shouts.

“Mr Potter, how are you?”

“Is it true that you’ve been in a coma?”

“Mr Potter, please smile into the camera!”

“Over here, Mr Potter!”

Hermione groaned, took Harry’s hand and dragged him through the masses of reporters, who had engrossed the corridor leading to Harry’s room, armed with cameras, quills and parchment.

“Mr Potter!”

“An interview, Mr Potter. Over here!”

Crouching, they ran through the crowd and reached the lobby at precisely that very moment as two Aurors, who had been positioned in front of Harry’s room rushed into their direction and did their best to repel the reporters from them.

Harry and Hermione ran through the packed lobby of the hospital, away from surprised and excited shouts like, “Mum! There’s Harry Potter!”, “What? Where?”, “Over there!”, “Of my God, it’s him!”, “Harry!”

They skidded to a halt in front of one of the countless fire places. Hermione threw some Floo Powder into the flames, which immediately turned a blazing green, pushed Harry into the fire, yelled “Grimmauld Place Number 12”, jumped in after him and disappeared in the flames, leaving enthusiastic, screaming people behind.

“For Merlin’s sake,” Hermione cried out as she marched up and down in Sirius’ old kitchen.  “Can’t those people pull themselves together for once? You’ve just woken up from a coma a week ago and they already try to rip your clothes off your body and overwhelm you with questions. No sense of decency! I’m sure they know you’re not totally healthy yet. Those ignorant sods!”

Harry smiled as he watched Hermione having a minor temper tantrum. He himself was sitting on a chair at the kitchen table and leaned back, exhausted.

All that stress with the reporters had exhausted him beyond believe. Hard to believe that the last time he’d been conscious he had been awake for over twenty-four hours at a time to fight for his life and for the life of everyone else, without feeling the fatigue that threatened to overwhelm him now.

He let his head sink onto the table and closed his eyes for a moment, listening to Hermione’s angry monologue. He smiled as he felt her warm hand on his shoulder. Harry blinked and turned to look at her, but the seat next to him was empty.

Puzzled, he looked to his right and saw Hermione, who was still angrily running to and fro in front of the table and was busy bad-mouthing random reporters. She was too far away to touch him. She had not even noticed that he was practically lying on the table right now. Flabbergasted, Harry turned to his left again and looked at the chair next to him. But it was empty. He turned around to see if someone was standing behind him, but saw nothing but the bare, slightly blotchy wall. The wallpaper was peeling off at the top and one could clearly tell that there had been a water-damage several years prior.

He could have sworn that there had just been a hand on his shoulder….

“Harry?” Hermione’s flushed faced appeared in front of him. Harry jumped. “Are you okay?”

Blinking and slightly put off, Harry once again looked at the empty chair next to him. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I thought I just… Ah, it’s nothing. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

 _Strange._ Harry shook his head and turned back to Hermione, who was watching him with a smile.

“Maybe you should rest for an hour or so. Today was indeed quite exhausting. What with all those rude reporters who weren’t taught proper manners!” She glared at the shelf, in which the old china and silverware was stowed, as if it had just insulted her personally.

Harry tried to stifle a yawn and stood up, swaying. “I think that’s what I’ll do,” he said and slowly made his way towards the stairs.

“I’ll wake you in an hour, so you can take your potion, okay?”

“Yeah, do that,” Harry muttered and walked up the stairs.

*~*HP*~*

During the following night he did not sleep well. All the events of the past days were buzzing in his head and occupied his exhausted mind, making it impossible for him to relax enough to fall asleep. The final battle, which was still a fresh and very detailed memory, more so for him though than for others, constituted a major part of his dreams….

The next morning, Harry sat exhausted and extremely overtired at the table in the musty kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand, and tried desperately to fully wake up. He hadn’t been able to get much sleep the night before. Again and again scenes had appeared before his mind’s eye, had he tried to close his eyes for even a minute. Scenes he would rather forget; screaming friends, dead classmates, the burning and destroyed castle…. Harry shook his head to dispel the images out of his head. If he had to mull over it in every sleeping minute, he didn’t want to do so when he was awake. Sighing, he sank into the hard chair and rubbed his eyes. He was so _tired._

The hissing of the fireplace announced Hermione’s arrival.

“Good morning, Harry! How are you today? For Merlin’s sake, look at you!”

She quickly ran over to her best friend, who sat slumped at the kitchen table with a coffee mug, and knelt next to his chair to be able to look him in the eye. He had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was more dishevelled than normal. He smiled tiredly at his friend and sat up.

“I’m fine, Hermione. I’m just a little tired.”

“Yes, I can see that,” murmured the brown-haired witch and put a hand on his shoulder. Harry flinched slightly at the feeling.

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

Harry smiled at her sheepishly.

“Of course not,” Hermione sighed and shook her head. “Do you want me to get you some Dreamless Sleep potion? I wanted to go to Diagon Alley today anyway. I could stop by at the pharmacy.”

Harry smiled at her gratefully. “That would be nice of you, ’Mione. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to go out in public without being overrun….”

“I’d say you’re probably right about that.”

She strolled over to the shelf, took out a cup and filled it with the black caffeinated liquid. “Did you have a nightmare?” she asked tenderly as she sat down opposite him.

“The usual,” Harry looked down at his hands tightly holding onto the cup.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really, no,” he looked at her shyly. Hermione eyed him with a worried expression. “Really Hermione, I’m fine. I’m sure I’ll get more sleep once I take the potion, so no need to worry.”

He smiled at her encouragingly. It felt more like a grimace than a smile, but Hermione seemed to drop the topic despite everything. With a sigh, she took a sip of coffee and leaned back in her chair, making herself comfortable.

“How’s Ron by the way?” Harry had not seen him for ages and judging from stories Mrs Weasley or Hermione had told him, he had not come to see him while he had still been in hospital, unconscious.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, he’s alright. I really don’t know what his problem is. Almost every day he asks me how you’re doing, but to come for a visit and ask you personally… With that he obviously has a problem. Merlin knows what’s wrong with him.”

Harry sighed. He had never understood Ron. Actually, one should think male brains worked somewhat alike, but Ron seemed to be an exception. _Or I am_ , Harry thought sourly, glaring daggers at his coffee mug. He just didn’t understand him.

It had all started with situations such as the one during fourth year. It had been clear to him that Ron felt something for Hermione, but he had done everything humanly possible to make her cry. Jealous or not, he had never managed to utter an apology. And then the Triwizard Tournament – Harry thought, ever since he had known Ron, he had made it clear that he hated his fame and wanted nothing more than to live a normal life with a real family and still…. No sooner had Harry’s name been drawn from the Goblet of Fire, Ron had wanted any business with him, although precisely at this time he had needed all the help and support he could possibly get. Hermione had always been at his side, no matter what had happened to him, but Ron?

Harry snorted contemptuously. As far as Ron knew, he was still in a coma, or perhaps even dead. He wouldn’t have noticed. He made others look after his supposed best friend who had been in a coma for a month and was now forced to live with the trauma of the war. And he didn’t even manage to come over to say hello. _Some friend._

“Don’t worry about Ron,” Hermione stood up and brought her cup to the sink. “He’s an idiot. Maybe we’re lucky and he’ll realize it someday.”

Harry laughed joyless. “You don’t believe that yourself, do you?”

Hermione sighed. “No, I don’t. But one can hope,” she winked at him and walked over to the fireplace to throw in some Floo Powder.

“I’ll be back in a few to bring you the potions,” she stepped into the emerald fire, in which she disappeared mere seconds later.

Harry shook his head and stood up. When had everything become so damn complicated? And above all, what did Hermione see in Ron? He was an idiot, she had just said so herself. She had been the one who had been sitting at his bedside, waiting for him to wake up. She was the one who had always been on his side and turned against Ron, had it been necessary. And she was the one who, although he was now out of the hospital, still came over every day and spent most of her spare time with him. With _him_ and not with Ron.

Harry paused.

Could it be that…? No. No, it couldn’t be. Hermione would never prefer him to Ron. If that was the case, she would have done so during their school days. Ron had always offended and hurt her; he had tried to back her up and support her. But….

Harry put his cup down next to the sink and ran a hand through his hair. She had chosen him over Ron in their school days, hadn’t she? She had been the only one who had been at his side without thinking about it twice and had made no bones about restraining Ron, if necessary.

Harry took a deep breath. Maybe Ron knew. Perhaps he had come to the same conclusion, just earlier in time.

Harry smiled slightly, turned to the fireplace and sat down in the chair in front of the way too red fire. Maybe Ron’s jealousy was justified. Maybe Harry finally had the chance to be happy? For years he had tried to put his feelings for Hermione into the drawer labelled ‘emotions towards friends’ or ‘family’. When he had failed miserably with this method, he had tried hard to suppress them all together. But wasn’t it the time that he had the right to be happy after everything he had done for the wizarding world and for her?

Just before he closed his eyes, he saw the cold marble mantelpiece shimmering. _Weird_ , he thought as he entered the world of dreams.

*~*HP*~*

_He walked slowly through the forest. He had wrapped his Invisibility Cloak firmly around him, his wand held tightly in his right hand. Everything was quiet. The sobs and cries that shook the castle were becoming quieter and more insignificant with every step that led him away from his first ever home._

_He had a mission and he would fulfil it. He could not mourn his wishes and dreams; that would only rob him of his determination. He had lost so much in his life and because of him Voldemort had found victims in the ranks of his friends and had torn their families apart._ Because of him _. He would not allow the people who meant something to him to suffer because of him. He knew what it felt like to lose everyone who belonged to the family; he knew what it felt like to be alone._

_He looked down and examined the small black stone which he was holding in his left hand. His whole family was dead, and he would die soon as well. Soon he would see them again, but going all the way alone was too much for him to do by himself._

_Slowly he turned the Resurrection Stone three times in his hand and focused on the people he would see again._

_The forest around him was silent. The only thing he could hear was a branch breaking when someone stepped on it and some leaves being pushed to the side as someone made their way up to him._

_He looked up and gazed into the bright green eyes of his mother. Her read hair was wafting in a soft breeze that only she could feel. She smiled at him and put a warm hand on his shoulder. When he looked over his mother’s shoulder, he saw the shimmering figure of his father coming towards him, a smile lit up his face and pride seemed to make his eyes brighter than normal._

_“We are so proud of you,” he whispered and came to a stop in front of him and next to his mum. “So unbelievably proud.”_

_“I didn’t want you to die for me. None of you.” A tear ran down his scratched cheek. “I didn’t want that.”_

_“We know that, honey,” whispered his mother and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “We don’t blame you for what has happened to us.”_

_Her silhouette shimmered slightly as if she consisted of waves crushing against rocks._

_James smiled at him and nodded slightly._

_Behind him, Harry could now see two more figures. They were more see-through and less colourful than his parents, but they both smiled at him encouragingly._

_“Sirius,” he whispered and began to tremble. “Remus.”_

_“Hello, Harry,” Sirius looked younger than he remembered. The haunted look in his eyes was gone, and he seemed happy. Remus also looked different. He, too, looked younger and healthier._

_Harry sniffed and blinked rapidly to get the tears out of his eyes, causing everything to blur. He tried to smile but didn’t really succeed._

_Slowly the forest changed around him and the colours and contours became indistinct, as if he was surrounded be a variety of different coloured patterns. Sirius and Remus faded, until they eventually disappeared completely._

_“No! Remus! Sirius! Stay with me! I don’t know what to do!”_

_Lily took his hand in hers. James put an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Both looked more solid than before._

_“You have to listen to us now, sweetheart. It’s important.” His mother looked at him seriously before turning to James, but continued to speak to him. “We need your help.”_

_“My help?”_

_Confused, Harry looked from his father over to his mother and back again. Both were lost in each other’s eyes and didn’t seem to notice him. “Mum?”_

_The colours around him whirled faster and faster, as if they stood in the eye of a colourful hurricane. He felt sick._

_Lily Potter put a hand on James’ cheek and smiled at him. “We can do it! I’ll keep waiting.”_

_With one last grateful smile to her, James turned to Harry, looked him into his eyes and disappeared._

_“Dad? DAD!”_

_“Your father is where I have also been many years before,” she whispered and green eyes looked into green eyes. “It happened sixteen years ago, and since then we’re trapped.”_

_“Trapped? What are you talking about?”_

_“You’re going to help us, aren’t you, darling? Please!”_

_“I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”_

_“Please, Harry,” her voice echoed off the swirling walls around them as the red of her hair began to mix in with the green and brown of the trees around her. “Please,” her voice trailed off, until she too eventually disappeared and_ Harry slid off the chair onto the cold floor with a loud gasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! Leave a comment and tell me what you think!
> 
> Until next time - see ya! :D


	4. Things of the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! On we go! Enjoy reading!

**Things of the Past**

Over the next few weeks, Harry had the constant feeling of being watched. Whenever he went into the kitchen, he saw a shadow moving behind the door. He whirled around, just to stare at a blank and completely normally lit wall.

Whenever he went to the library to find something to distract him, parts of the shelves seemed to be hidden behind some kind of magic. At least it looked like it, why else should the edges and covers of the books be blurred?

The only room in which he felt comfortable was the bathroom, because here he didn’t see any kind of strange glow, shadow, or whatever.

He hadn’t slept properly last night – again. The potions Hermione had brought him three weeks ago were all consumed, and Harry didn’t want to ask her again if she could get him more.

He hadn’t left the house for days and began to have the feeling of being paranoid. To see shadows without them being there, to see movements although he was alone, to see protection spells although he hadn’t been the one to put them there…. Would he end up like Mad-Eye Moody, who had eventually started to attack trash cans, because he had been absolutely positive about Death Eaters hiding in them and throwing garbage at him? That would be just sad.

Harry sighed and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. He winced slightly as his bare feet touched the cold stone floor and tried to ignore the blurring wardrobe in the corner of the room. Maybe if he no longer took note of these incidents, they would disappear? He was sure that this only happened inside his head. The wardrobe didn’t really move anyway, right? If he managed to convince himself of the fact that he was just imagining all these things, maybe his overenthusiastic fantasy would calm down eventually.

Yawning, he went into the kitchen to prepare himself a cup of tea and wait for Hermione’s arrival. He strolled over to the sink, filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove. With a hot cup of tea and maybe some pancakes in his stomach the world would be alright again, he thought, taking a pan from one of the hooks over the stoves, when without further warning a cup flew out of the shelf behind him and shattered on the stone floor.

Harry whirled around and stared at the mug, which was scattered all over the kitchen floor, covering it in tiny, rather sharp shards. _What the_ … He carefully put the pan into the sink and walked slowly toward the cup, the broken pieces lying on the ground in front of him. How could this happen?

Harry bent down and picked up the broken handle. Frowning, he looked around, but he was alone in the kitchen and as far as he knew in the whole house. Apart from him and Hermione, no one ever entered the house.

He jumped as the fire flared up and a red-haired girl stepped out of the flames.

“Ginny,” Harry quickly got up from the ground, pulled out his wand, repaired the broken cup and placed it back into the cupboard. The glass doors had been shut since he had taken out the mug for his tea.

Confused, Harry shook his head and turned to his ex-girlfriend, who was watching him with an amused twinkle in her eyes.

“Did I scare you?” She slowly made her way over and stopped about a meter in front of him.

“What?” Harry blinked and tried to smile. “Oh, no. The cup just fell out of my hand. Nothing happened, really.”

Ginny beamed at him, eyes sparkling, but didn’t say anything.

“Um,” feeling rather self-conscious, Harry ran his hand through his hair. He eying Ginny, who continued to just stare at him, beaming. “I just wanted to make some tea and pancakes. Do you want some?”

He hurried over to the stove, where just in that moment the kettle began to make a very loud whistling sound.

“A tea would be nice,” she said, sitting down at the table.

Harry went to the glass cabinet and reached for the doorknob. _Strange. The door wasn’t open before, was it?_ Frowning, he took a cup out of the cabinet, closed the door and put the tea bags in, followed by the boiling water.

“Thanks,” Ginny smiled at him and took her cup. He didn’t miss the fact that she brushed her fingers over his more than needed.

“You’re welcome.” He sat down across from her and took a tentative sip of his hot tea.

When Ginny continued to remain silent – but kept glancing at him every so often – Harry decided to break the awkward silence. “So? What brings you here?”

“Do I need a reason to see how my boyfriend is doing?” Ginny winked at him and grinned into her teacup.

_Boyfriend?_

“Ginny, I thought I have made myself clear last year.” Harry suppressed an annoyed sigh. That was the last thing he needed.

“Yes, you did, but I have hoped that, now that you’re back again and healthy as can be, we could talk about it. Your reasoning has been that you just wanted to keep me safe and that you had this mission to deal with because Dumbledore trusted you to do so. But now that you’re back and that you’ve completed this mysterious mission, I thought we could start over again.”

Ginny put her hand over Harry’s, which was laying on the table surface next to his cup.

Harry took a deep breath and had to force himself to look her in the eye. “Ginny, I’ve told you that day why I’ve broken up with you. And nothing has changed that.”

Ginny grinned widely and took his hand in between her own. “Then where’s the problem?”

Carefully, Harry pulled his hand out of Ginny’s clasp and instead clutched his teacup as if it was a lifeline keeping him from drowning.

“You don’t know what I’ve had to go through last year and I have –“

“But we can get through this together. I’m here for you!”

Harry sighed and looked up from his now empty cup. “No, we can’t! Don’t you get it? I have changed during the last year, Ginny! I had to do things that I never would have done under normal circumstances. I had to make decisions that no one wants to ever have to make.”

He looked down into the brown eyes of his first real girlfriend. “I can’t do that, Gin. Really. I’m sorry.”

Ginny blinked and was silent for a few minutes.

“So that’s it?” her face getting redder by the second.

“That’s it? Just like that? I’ve waited for over a whole year for you, Harry. Do you think I haven’t made sacrifices myself? I’ve broken into Snape’s office just to help you. I’ve had to hide, as well as the other DA members, because the Death Eaters at Hogwarts have decided to hunt us down. We’ve tried to incite a revolution. _I_ have tried to incite a revolution. I didn’t want all that! I’ve been scared like crazy, Harry. Afraid that something would happen to my family, because I’ve written messages on the castle walls the monsters running the school didn’t like and one of my brothers was on the run with you. And yet I have risked everything to be of any use for you!”

Harry put his face in his hands and groaned softly.

“I’ve risked everything, Harry, _everything_ , so there could be a future for both of us. Put yourself in my place. You told me at Dumbledore’s funeral that you couldn’t be with me because you wouldn’t come back to Hogwarts for your seventh year because Dumbledore trusted you with something important. And I? What about me? Have you ever thought about how I could have possibly felt at that moment?”

“Of course, I have!” Enraged, Harry jumped up and started to pace in front of the table.

“I have spent every free minute trying to find your name on the Marauder’s Map and somehow trying to find a way to make sure you’re safe.  Every time the names of the missing and dead people were read on the radio, I was hoping to not hear your name among them. And every time he was in a bad mood, Ron made sure that I wouldn’t forget that I was the reason you were in danger. Not only that you belong to a ‘family of blood traitors’, no, you’re also the ex-girlfriend of the public enemy, the undesirable number one Harry Potter; the one that everyone had thought to be dead for weeks on end.”

Harry was silent for a moment, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Do you remember what you said to me after I’ve broken up with you?” he asked softly, watching her every move.

Ginny stared at him, speechless and with red cheeks.

“You said I would never be happy if I couldn’t hunt him, find him and kill him. Do you see the error in that, Ginny? If you don’t, then you have never known or even understood me.

“I hated it, do you understand that? I _hated_ it! I didn’t want to hunt him down. I didn’t want to lead this whole war and above all of that, I didn’t want to kill him! This prophecy has ruined my life, don’t you see that? By the time I was a year old, my life was perfect! I had parents who loved me, uncles who gave me gifts and wanted to play with me and above all that I had freedom! I had things I can’t even remember and have no idea how it felt to have those things. All I ever wanted was to be normal. A normal family with normal problems and a _normal son_!

“And what did I have? An uncle and an aunt who have treated me like a slave, who never called me by my name, who never hugged me or stood up for me when my oh so perfect cousin decided to beat me up again until I was nothing more than a piece of bruised meat.

“Until I was eleven years old, everything I thought to know about my parents has been that my father was supposed to be an alcoholic, my mother giving a damn about me and that both of them had died in a car accident, which my father had supposedly caused with too much alcohol in his system. Until my sixth birthday, I thought my name was ‘ _freak_ ’!

“And you believe in all seriousness that I have voluntarily hunted Voldemort and waited for an opportunity to _assassinate_ him once and for all? I am a murderer, Ginny! Voldemort or not, I have killed someone and I’m anything but proud of that. So don’t tell me you know me or would understand me. That you are and never will be able to!”

Panting, Harry stood in front of the kitchen table, at which a deeply appalled Ginny sat, who stared at him wide-eyed and open-mouthed. He hadn’t noticed that his voice had become louder during his fit of rage, until he had finally been yelling.

The silence that followed was deafening. Harry took a deep breath and wiped his hand over his face.

Ginny gulped. She didn’t know what to say. All the things that Harry had just thrown at her had been terrible. How could she have spent so much time with him and yet know so little about him?

Horrified, she stared at Harry. All the energy seemed to have drained from his body. He was completely exhausted as he dropped onto the chair across from her seat at the wooden table. He was right. She didn’t know him at all.

“You’re right,” she whispered. Harry’s head jerked up.

“What?”

“You’re right,” she repeated, stood up, walked slowly around the table and sat down next to him.

She took his hand and drew light circles on the back of it. This time he allowed it, which she was grateful for.

“I’m sorry. All this time, I have had a wrong image in mind,” she smiled at him through her tears. When had she started to cry? She didn’t know.

“I never really wanted it to be true. The Harry who I remember was shy and gentle. He hardly ever lost his temper and always beamed when he’s seen me. He was the best friend a girl could ask for, but he hardly ever spoke about himself. Not I know why. If I’m honest, I’ve been afraid to ask you about your life.”

Harry looked at her, confused.

“Yes,” she chuckled and sniffed as a new flood of silent tears ran down her cheeks, leaving wet trails behind.

“I know it sounds weird, but that’s just how it has been at that time. I think, deep down inside I have always known that you had a difficult life. Your fame must have been the reason which has obscured your past, the reason I didn’t see it before. Your story always seemed so fantastic that, before I’ve met you, you were some kind of superhero in my mind.”

Ginny blushed even more and looked down at their intertwined hands. “But now I see that you are a different person,” she smiled up at him. “The war has changed every single one of us, but mostly you. And I’m sorry.”

She wiped her hand over her eyes and stood up slowly. “I will always love you, Harry.”

“No,” Harry stood up and embraced her. “No, the Harry you love no longer exists. He died the moment when Voldemort has hit me with the Killing Curse.”

He let go of her, still having his hands on her shoulders, and smiled at her sadly.

“I’m sorry, Ginny. You deserve someone who can give you all the love you feel for him in return. You are a wonderful woman and I have no regrets. You’ll find someone who is good enough for you eventually.”

He kissed her on the forehead. “But I’m not that guy,” he whispered and let her go.

*~*HP*~*

In the evening, Harry was sitting on the couch in front of the fire place, a glass with firewhiskey in his hand, staring into the flames. He was just thinking about his conversation with Ginny when Hermione’s desperate voice could be heard, coming from the kitchen.

“Harry? Where are you?”

Harry stood up, put his whiskey glass on the side table next to the couch and hurried down the hall, down the stairs and into the kitchen, in the middle of which a completely dishevelled and sobbing Hermione stood with some suitcases.

“Hermione? What’s wrong?” He walked over to her and hugged her tightly. She just sobbed even more and clung desperately onto Harry.

“I-I.…” Hermione sobbed and buried her face in Harry’s shirt. “Oh, Harry!”

“Shhh, everything’s all right. It’s all right. Take a deep breath, okay?” he patted her back awkwardly and felt her breathing slowly calm down. “First of all, let’s sit down and then you’ll tell me everything, okay?”

He took her by the hand and let her up the stairs into the parlour, where he gently pushed her onto the couch and sat down next to her. Hermione sniffed and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“And now tell me calmly. What happened?”

He still held her hand in his and drew soothing circles on the back of her hand. Shuddering, Hermione took a deep breath and forced all the air out of her lungs. “I-I h-have brok-broken up w-with R-R-Ron,” she whimpered and burst into tears again.

Harry wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap where she stayed, sobbing into his shoulder.

“W-We had an a-argument,” she sniffled and snuggled closer to Harry.

“I came home this afternoon after buying some potions from Diagon Alley. I wanted to bring you some Dreamless Sleep potions because I thought that your stock has to be used up soon. I’ve only given you potions for two weeks and since it’s been three weeks already, I thought I’d get you some more. But then you didn’t tell me you needed more, so I figured you’ve not taken them every night.” She lifted her head and looked at Harry.

“No, you have taken them every night,” she murmured as she saw the dark circles under his eyes.

“Why didn’t you say something? I would have bought more for you,” she said reproachfully, Ron was apparently completely forgotten.

“I don’t want to shoo you from one place to the other because of my problems. But that’s not important right now,” he added hastily, as Hermione indignantly opened her mouth to reply.

“What happened? Why did you end things with Ron?”

“Oh,” she rubbed her eyes and rested her cheek against Harry’s shoulder. When she spoke again, Harry felt her warm breath on his neck and immediately got goose bumps.

“Uhm, where was I? Oh, right. I came home and he was sitting on the couch, watching TV, waiting for me. When he heard me, he got up and started questioning me; where I was, who I was with, what I’ve done.… I mean, what’s it to him? Well, I’ve told him anyway because I didn’t want to have any more trouble with him than I already have. I’ve told you how irritated he always gets when I mention you, didn’t I?”

Harry nodded, she had, in fact. About two weeks ago she had come to Grimmauld Place, literally smouldering with rage and he had spent two hours to listen to her angry monologue. According to Hermione, Ron became increasingly aggressive and irritated, especially if one mentioned Harry.

On that evening when she had found shelter in Harry’s home, both she and Ron had previously been over at the Burrow for one of the many Weasley gatherings Molly used to organize. She had been surprised when Mrs Weasley hugged her tightly, asking why Harry hadn’t been with her. Hermione had assumed that since Ron obviously didn’t want to talk to Harry – only Merlin knew why – Mrs Weasley had invited him personally. Molly, however, hadn’t been aware of the obvious misunderstanding and had given Ron a scolding about Harry and Hermione being a part of the family, which resulted in Ron storming out of the kitchen, beet red and seething.

“Well, anyway, I told him I’ve been at Diagon Alley to go to the pharmacy and he walked  over to me, grabbed me by the shoulders and started shaking me like I was a rattle. ‘Why do you constantly go to the pharmacy? Is that the place where you meet up with Harry? Huh? Tell me the truth!’” she imitated Ron so well that Harry felt a shiver running down his spine.

“That’s exactly how I won’t allow anyone to treat me! Seriously, Harry. Who does that idiot think he is? And then I’ve spoken my mind. Finally! I’ve told him it wasn’t his business to know where I was with whom and when. We are, after all, not married and I wouldn’t want to anyways, the way he treats me. And then he slapped me,” she added, new tears running down her cheeks.

“He did _what_?” Harry stared at her in shock. How dare he beat Hermione?

“Yeah. I don’t recognize him anymore! That’s just not Ron! Anyway, I then went into our bedroom, packed my bags and came here.” Hermione sniffed and wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck.

“Oh, Harry! What should I do? The apartment belongs to both of us and I won’t ever go back there again! I just can’t! Why did I even move in, in the first place?”

“You’ll never go there again! You can bet your life on that. You’ll stay here. Just choose a room upstairs and make yourself comfortable. You can stay for as long as you want and in the meantime, I’ll have a go at that blithering idiot!”

“No!” Hermione jumped from Harry’s lap and held him by the shoulders.

“Please, don’t! No matter what Ron did, please don’t do that. Please stay here. I don’t want to be alone,” Hermione sobbed and clung desperately to Harry’s shoulders, without ever taking her eyes off his bright green ones.

“Please,” she whispered.

Harry looked at her and all the anger he had felt just a second ago deflagrated without warning. How could he ever refuse a request from this woman? How could anyone ever do something like what Ron did to this beautiful, wonderful creature?

He sighed, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace, gently rubbing her back and just holding onto her as she began to cry again. Sobs racked her small body, causing it to tremble violently.

“Shhh, it’s alright. I’ll stay here. Everything will be fine, Hermione. I promise.”

*~*HP*~*

_He ran along a dark road. The night was freezing cold and the wind whipped over his face, seemingly pushing tiny razor sharp needles into his skin. All around the trees groaned from the force of the storm and shook threateningly._

_Before him, at the end of the paved road, smoke rose into the air and a green skull with a snake slithering through its mouth put everything into eerily green light. The image brightened the house underneath._

_Panting, he pushed open the garden gate. The front door was torn off its hinges, plastering of the walls and gables was scattered all over the floor. He rushed into the house at the exact same moment as he heard a loud bang from above, causing the ceiling in front of him to collapse._

_He threw himself to the ground to avoid being hit by ceiling parts. When he looked up he saw nothing but dust and dirt that swirled throughout the corridor. Coughing, he crawled towards the stairs and came across something soft._

_His eyes widened in shock. Before him was James Potter’s dead body, eyes wide with horror and his mouth twisted in a silent scream. Blood trickled from his temple, to his ear and over his neck to drop onto the floor, making low, barely audible dripping sounds as the drops hit the filthy ground beneath him._

_Carefully, he felt his way around and hauled up a beam off of James, which had broken out of the ceiling during the explosion. Panting, he sat down next to the dead wizard and wiped the blood from his face._

_He desperately looked around. Help would come soon, that he knew. One would find his parents’ bodies and tell the legend of ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’ all over the world. But he just couldn’t leave them behind. Not like that._

_Trembling with fear and exhaustion, he looked back down at his dead father, whose lifeless eyes were now fixed on him._

_“Harry!”_

_Startled, he stepped back and hit a beam that was still stuck half way in the ceiling, causing it to creak threateningly to his touch. His eyes reached out to him and his bluish mouth twisted into a smile. It looked grotesque._

_“Harry! Help us, my son!”_

_From above he heard a groan and whirled around. At the top of the stairs stood a rickety figure. The hair dishevelled and covered in dust, the hand stretched out in his direction. He couldn’t see the face._

_“Harry,” the person faltered and stumbled against the wall, which she immediately used to support herself. “Look at me! You have to see me, sweetheart!”_

_“Help us,” croaked James’ dead body a few feet in front of him. His leg twitched. “Help us!”_

_“Harry.”_

“NO!” His eyes darted wildly around the room. Everything was dark. No dust, no fog, no blood, no undead.

Panting, he ran his hands over his face and tried to calm down. It had only been a dream. Just a dream.

The door to his room was pushed open and a person with extremely dishevelled hair rushed into the room. Behind her, the hallway light brought out her silhouette perfectly.

Harry recoiled in horror, lost his balance and fell backward out of his bed.

“Harry!” Hermione rushed around the bed and knelt down next to her best friend, who was staring at her with a mixture of horror, fear and then excessive relief and tried to get his breathing under control.

“Harry, what’s wrong? It’s all right,” she muttered hastily, as he jerked violently at her touch.

“Shhh, it’s fine. It’s me, Harry – Hermione. You’ll be fine. You are safe here. Shhh, everything’s okay,” she whispered as she gently wrapped her arms around her distraught friend and started to rock him back and forth. When his breathing calmed down, she loosened her grip and looked into his blood-shot, tear-filled eyes. “What happened?”

Harry took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’m going insane, Hermione,” he whispered, his eyes darted frantically around the room. He flinched as his bedside lamp began to blur. _It’s back._ “I think, I’m going insane!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bloody hell... poor Harry D:
> 
> I hope you liked it! Tell me what you think!
> 
> Until next time - see ya :D


	5. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us?” - Sirius Black, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

**Interlude**

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

He had imagined death somewhat differently. He had always believed that if he were to be assassinated, it would involve unspeakable pain. But when Voldemort’s curse hit him in the chest, he did not feel any pain. It was more like the feeling you had when you fainted from exhaustion on a warm summer day. The spot where the curse had hit him was slightly warm when his body had been enveloped by green light. Was that the case anyway? He had felt the warmth all over his body as the darkness had swallowed him.

The next thing he could remember was the cold. All heat and energy had been sucked out of him, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell. He blinked and tried to ignore the cold. He was cold, but he didn’t shiver. He had the feeling that his muscles were about to contract to channel some much needed warmth into his freezing body, but his muscles didn’t react. If he thought about it more closely, he couldn’t feel his muscles at all – let alone his body.

Puzzled, he looked around. He stood at the bottom of the stairs that led up to the first floor. The front door was lying on the ground a few feet in front of him. Leaves were blown into the hallway.

James blinked. As he turned, he saw something lying at his feet. He looked at the figure more closely and adrenaline shot through his veins. He looked himself in the wide-open and yet determined-looking, dead eyes, staring at the ceiling above him without seeing it.

And then he remembered. _Lily! Harry!_

He looked up and saw the tip of a dark cloak disappearing around the corner. He heard a door being blown off its hinges, followed by a horrified scream. _Lily!_

He raced up the stairs, down the hall to Harry’s room, the door of which lay in the hallway, scattering the floor with pieces of painted wood. _No! Oh, Merlin, please! No!_

“Move aside, Mudblood!”

“Not Harry, please, not Harry! I’ll do anything! Please! Have mercy!”

“I have warned you.” _NO!_

“ _Avada Kedavra_!” _LILY!_

James whirled around the corner and saw the body of the most wonderful woman slump to the ground, remaining there, lying next to the crib, motionless. _No! Lily! Oh, please, this cannot be happening!_

Tears threatened to obscure his sight. His eyes prickled, but when he desperately wiped his hand over his eyes, they remained completely dry. He couldn’t cry any longer. With a sob he tore his eyes away from Lily, only to be confronted with the next catastrophe.

“You are supposed to be my downfall? Don’t make me laugh!”

His son stood in his crib, staring at his mother, eyes blood-shot and wide open. Tears ran down his small red cheeks as he looked up at Voldemort, who studied him with little interest and a lot of contempt.

“A baby is supposed to be the demise of the most powerful wizard in the world? I know to avoid that risk.”

Harry’s eyes followed the wand that was slowly and deliberately pointed on his forehead.

 _NO! Don’t you dare, you monster! Not my son!_ James lunged forward and threw himself in front of Harry, who still eyed the strongest dark wizard of the last century defiantly, his head held high.

From the corner of his eye he saw a silvery figure straightening and rushing up to him.

“ _Avada Kedavra_!”

*~*HP*~*

The roar of this engine he would recognize out of a thousand. How could he not, having spent much of his summer holidays tinkering with his best friend and brother, or feeling it rumbling and rattling under his seat when he and Sirius had gone for a ride. But he didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified when he heard the well-known motorcycle screeching to a halt in the front yard, followed by a terrified scream.

“NO! No, please!”

James turned to Lily. They both knelt on the floor in front of their son’s ruined cot, trying desperately to calm him down. Harry was sitting in the rubble that used to be his bed and called for his mother over and over again, who sat trembling before him, desperately trying to make her son realize that she was still there. But Harry had eyes only for the motionless body of his “Mama” that lay next to the broken crib facing the door; dead, emerald green eyes wide and wet with tears.

Harry’s voice was getting more panicked as he realized his calls went unheard.

“Dadda? Dadda!” Harry began to sob and tried to crawl out of the wooden debris of his cot to his mother. “Mama!”

 _Oh God, please!_ Lily sobbed and reached a hand out to her son, but it went right through him without any contact with Harry’s warm, soft baby skin.

James closed his eyes. How was it possible that his life and that of his family turned into a huge disaster from one moment to the other? Half an hour ago they had been sitting in the living room laughing and playing with their son, and now?

He whirled around as a blood-curling scream echoed from the ground floor up to them. “JAMES! No. Oh, no! Please! JAMES!”

 _Sirius_ , James ran out of Harry’s room, down the hall and skidded to a halt in front of his own body. Sirius was sitting on the floor, trembling, his dead body in his arms and begged him to answer him, to move.

“James! Please, don’t do this to me! Please!”

When James knelt beside him and put a hand on his shoulder, Harry began to cry loudly. Lily’s desperate attempts to calm their son down could be heard clearly. Sirius’ head jerked towards the stairs that led to Harry’s nursery. Sniffling, he put James back on the ground and gently closed his eyes.

Trembling, he got up and staggered up the stairs, closely followed by James’ ghost. Harry had managed to pull himself halfway out of the ruins and had taken his mother’s hand. The coldness of her skin scared him.

Sirius whirled around the corner and broke down upon taking in the scene in front of him.

“Lily,” he managed to sit up and started to crawl to mother and son.

Harry looked up at his godfather, his little face tear-streaked, and began to cry again. “Pafoo! Mummy no! Where Dadda?”

Sirius wiped the tears from his eyes, which were immediately followed by new ones. He had to be strong now. He had to be strong for Harry! He still had enough time to deal with Wormtail and he would take the time. But not now. His godson needed him – his best friend’s son.

“Harry,” with a trembling hand he wiped gently over the soft, wet cheek of his godson and picked him up, pulling him away from his mother. Harry stretched himself desperately for Lily’s body and cried, horrified.

“Come on, Prongslet. Mummy and Daddy are in a better place now. Uncle Padfoot will take care of you, sweetheart,” he sniffled and hugged Harry tightly.

*~*HP*~*

 _That cannot really be happening_ , Lily whispered as she watched Hagrid fight with Sirius. Sirius clung onto Harry, who had leaned his head on his godfather’s shoulder and turned his eyes alternately to his uncle and the half-giant, crying quietly.

“Sorry, Sirius. Instructions from Dumbledore. Gotta take him.” Hagrid pointed to their son and made a huge step towards them.

Sirius backed off and hugged Harry tighter.

“I’m his godfather, Hagrid. J-James and Lily wanted me to take care of Harry if…i-if….” Padfoot sniffled and took a deep breath to regain his composure.

“I cannot let you take him away from me, Hagrid. I’m sorry, I just can’t. I can’t lose him, too.”

Hagrid watched the desperate wizard with a sad look. He too had been crying recently, judging by the wet marks on his cheeks. He looked sheepishly at Harry, who had again snuggled into his uncle’s embrace.

“Dumbledore’s order, Sirius. Must go with it. Said, little Harry here needs to be protected.”

“Protected from what? Voldemort is dead and he has taken my best friends with him!”

Hagrid flinched violently.

Sirius smirked. “Vol-de-mort,” he said, pronouncing every syllable extra carefully and watched the half-giant flinch again, “is dead. Harry has defeated him. Why should he not be allowed to stay with me? I can protect him! I _will_ protect him!”

James observed the discussion keyed-up. Why did Dumbledore not want Harry to grow up with Sirius?

 _Oh, no!_   James turned to Lily, who held her hand over her mouth and looked at him, horrified.

_What is it?_

_Dumbledore doesn’t know that Sirius wasn’t our secret keeper! He thinks Sirius is the one who betrayed us and told Voldemort where we were hiding!_

James gulped. _But… But Dumbledore knows Sirius. He has known him for years! He wouldn’t…._

“’m sorry, Sirius. Have orders to bring ‘im to his only relatives. Dumbledore has his reasons.”

“To those Muggles?”

James stared terrified at Lily’s wide-open eyes. _No! Petunia hates magic! She hates me! Dumbledore cannot seriously believe that Harry will be treated well while in her care!_

“Yeah. Dumbledore’s waitin’, so…”

Sirius looked from Hagrid to his little godson and smiled at him sadly.

“Harry?” Harry looked up at him, his large emerald green eyes widened.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. Dumbledore will take you to a safe place, okay? But don’t forget that I love you!” He squeezed him tightly and buried his face in Harry’s tousled black hair, which resembled his father’s so much.

“Mummy and Daddy love you! Never forget that!”

*~*HP*~*

The street was dark. The streetlights flickered and the sky above them was black, not a single star was to be seen in this autumn night. Sirius marched over the cobbles with resolute steps, rounded a corner and headed for a relatively large square. There were some people on the road that strolled laughing from pub to pub, yelling, clearly intoxicated.

James and Lily had to run to keep pace with Sirius.

 _What is he up to?_ If she were still breathing, Lily would be out of breath. _Do you think he will…?_

 _I hope not._ James remembered only too well what could happen when Sirius was angry – so angry that he’d cast his reconsideration to the wind. The last time someone had nearly lost their life, even if that someone had been Severus Snape. But James was sure, though he tried to convince Lily from the opposite, that Sirius had murder in mind. Murder of the one person of whom Sirius was the only one to know was responsible for his and Lily’s death. Peter.

“PETER!” Sirius stopped dead in the centre of the square; his cold, stormy grey eyed homed in on the other end of the square. There stood a rather chubby, small and trembling man, whimpering with fear.

“SIRIUS! Why? Why did you kill Lily and James?”

 _WHAT?_ James stared at Peter, completely stunned. First he betrayed them to Voldemort, and now he tried to foist double murder on one of his living best friends?

The ignorant Muggles who were on or near the square stopped and turned to see what was going on. A group of teenagers who were on their way to the nearest pub turned to each other. The girls began to whisper, the boys stood protectively in front of them, covering them from clear view.

Sirius boiled with rage as he pulled out his wand and pointed it at his former friend.

“You’ll pay, rat”, he whispered, ignoring the excited whispers of the onlookers, who had gathered around him and Peter.

As he took a breath to utter the curse, the whole square near the spot where Peter had just stood exploded, parts of the road and buildings flying through the air. Sirius stood frozen, his wand pointed at the crater in the ground, which took up large parts of the village centre.

Then all hell broke loose. People were screaming, screeching, crying, running about wildly and in the middle of all, Sirius stood and laughed hysterically.

Ministry employees, Aurors and Memory Wizards apparated to the ruined plaza, surrounded the laughing Sirius and pointed their wands at him.

“Sirius Black, we accuse you of the murder of Peter Pettigrew, Lily and James Potter, as well as the attempted murder of Harry Potter and hereby condemn you to a life in Azkaban.”

No one but Lily, James and Sirius saw a rat disappear into a drain of the destroyed square.

*~*HP*~*

It was some time before the two could move. That couldn’t be happening! First their lives, then their son’s and now Sirius’ life were completely destroyed in just one fateful night.

_Oh, God! They cannot send him to Azkaban without a trial! He hasn’t done anything! He is innocent! They cannot just.…_

_I know, Lily._ James stepped forward and put his arms around her, gently pulling her into his embrace. Lily wrapped her arms around his neck and began to sob violently. _That’s not fair at all!_

_Shhh, I know. Everything will be alright, love. You’ll see!_

He was amazed at how sincere his voice sounded. No tremors, no whisper. Although the only thing he felt like doing right now was to scream and rage and swear, but he pulled himself together. It would be of no use to lose his temper now. They had to look after Sirius! And after Harry!

He still couldn’t believe that Dumbledore had brought his son to the Dursleys. The very same family that despised magic and his wife and son above all else. And with those people his son would have to grow up? How could Dumbledore think that Harry would be treated well in the slightest? He was a wizard and the Dursleys would wait for him to show any signs of accidental magic just to have another reason to hate him even more. Wasn’t it enough already that he had just lost both his parents as well as his godfather? No, Dumbledore had to put even more burdens on his tiny shoulders and condemn him to a terrible childhood!

Shortly after they had cast the Fidelius Charm, they had taken the promise from him that he would never – under any circumstances – send Harry to Lily’s sister. Sirius, Remus, Mrs Figg; everyone would have been better than that horrible Muggle family!

 _We need to look after Harry_. Lily looked up and stared at her husband, eyes brighter than normal.

  _Hagrid must have taken him to Dumbledore by now._ James angrily gritted his teeth and had to take a deep breath twice to stop himself from immediately apparating to Little Whinging – or whatever ghosts would do – and strangle Dumbledore single-handedly. Harry, _their Harry_ , in the same house as the family of horse-face, the walrus and the pig!

Trembling, Lily took his hand and nodded to him. Sirius could wait. She was sure that he could hold out for the next hours without their presence. She had to see how her little darling was doing and if he was treated well – at least as well as they could expect from a woman like Petunia.

She closed her eyes and imagined the look of the street in which Petunia and her walrus of a husband had moved to after their wedding. Privet Drive with its identical rows of houses and unnaturally clean front gardens.

With destination, determination and deliberation, she took a deep breath and turned on the spot. The well-known feeling of being squeezed through a tube made her feel like being suffocated – although he could no longer breathe…. Old habits are just hard to shake off. But instead of landing in front of her sister’s house, she was drawn back through the tube.

The darkness was bone-crushing and her grip on James’ hand only tightened in order to not lose him in the chaos. With a jerk, she ended up back at the ruined square of Godric’s Hollow. Puzzled, she turned to James, who looked a bit dishevelled and breathless.

_What was that?_

James shook his head and looked around. _I have no idea._

Around them, Ministry officials were busy casting memory charms on the Muggles who had survived the explosion, after interrogating them and asking them to explain what exactly it was that they had witnessed.

 _We don’t seem to be able to get out of Godric’s Hollow._ James turned to Lily, who was staring at him with her bright green eyes. That couldn’t be! That _mustn’t_ be! How could they be with Harry if they couldn’t leave their home town?

_But we have to get out of here! Harry needs us!_

_I know!_

Lily began frantically to run to and fro. There had to be a way! Their son needed them – both of them.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. James watched as Lily desperately tried to find a solution to their problem.

 _Okay, it cannot be our magic. If we wouldn’t have it anymore, we couldn’t have started the apparation just now. So there had to be another reason. Wait a minute.…_ She stopped abruptly and stared at the entrance of the cemetery, which was located at the other side of the square, darkened by eerie shadows.

 _I have read something about ghosts a couple of years ago_ , she murmured, slowly turning her gaze to a bewildered James, who was staring at her with wide eyes and his mouth slightly open.

_You don’t mean…_

_That’s exactly what I mean!_ Lily’s eyes blazed as she stopped in front of James, took his hands in hers and looked into his hazel eyes.

_I have given you a book at that time, so you could use it for your Defence research! It described, among other things, how the ghosts of Hogwarts have managed to leave their place of death! Do you remember the conversation we’ve had with the Nearly Headless Nick? He died in Wales and yet he is the house ghost of Gryffindor. He said he had sucked the energy out of his murderer, just like the Grey Lady had taken the Bloody Baron’s magical energy after her murder! We need magical energy to get out of here!_

_That may be true, but from where do you plan to take it? Lily, we are the only magical family in this place. With the exception of Bertie of course, but I’d hate to kill her._ James frowned.

_Unless…_

_Unless what?_

_Unless we don’t need a living being to sacrifice their magic. You just said that our magic is still intact, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to apparate. So what if I…_

_No!_

_Lily, just think about it._

_No! Either both of us go or neither of us!_

_Lily! Harry needs us! Hagrid has just condemned him to a childhood in Petunia’s care! Do you think we should sit around and sulk because we cannot be by his side? No! He needs his mother and we have a way to make that happen. So why not? It’s better if one parents is there with him as if he’s on his own._

_But…._ Lily’s eyes began to prickle. _James…._

 _It’s our only chance to be with him_ , he whispered and wrapped his arms around her. He ran his hand lovingly over her fiery red hair and murmured soothing promises into her ear. _Everything will be all right, Lily-Flower. You’ll see._

*~*HP*~*

“Stop whining and be quiet!”

With a bang, the little wooden door of the cupboard under the stairs closed and Harry heard the all too well-known rattle of the chain.

Trembling, he settled on the old broken-down mattress, the tops of the metal coil springs peeking out of its old padding. Sniffling, he lay down, pulled his knees up to his chest and stared at the wall where a spider had just completed its elaborate cobweb and crawled to the edge, extremely satisfied and ready to patiently wait for prey.

Harry had long ago lost his fear of spiders. He didn’t really like them, but if you lay on a holey mattress in a broom closet, body shivering due to exhaustion and aching limbs and the only ray of light illuminated a spider, even this small creature was a bit more interesting.

_Oh, my little sweetheart! Petunia! I swear! When you’ll die at some point, then you’ll have to deal with me!_

_Calm down, Lily._

Lily huffed and sat down on the floor next to her son.

About a year ago they had found out that James, although he was stuck at Godric’s Hollow, was able to talk to her; even if only for short intervals. She suspected it had something to do with the fact that he had lent her his magic temporarily so she could be with their son, and thus he was somehow connected with her. She wouldn’t vouch for that theory, but you got creative when for years you had no one else to talk to than your husband, whom you hadn’t seen in person all this time.

Lily had occasionally tried to return to Godric’s Hollow, just to see James again. However, he wouldn’t hear it. _Harry needs you_ was the only response she got when she addressed the topic.

But she knew why he didn’t want her to leave their three year old son’s side. The scene that had happened before her very own eyes just now was enough confirmation that they had made the right decision and did the right thing. How could one lock a sick child in a closet? Without any care, without any interest how he was doing, without any affection? Well, if her dear sister would like her son even the slightest bit, the cabinet wouldn’t be a topic she had to worry about in the first place.

A sniffle pulled her from her thoughts. Harry had coiled up and tried desperately to get his sobs under control. It broke Lily’s heart to see her son being so distraught.

Loud steps announced the arrival of the pot whale, as he positioned himself in front of the small door of the cabinet and banged away at it with all his might. Harry flinched violently and a sob escaped him. Horrified, he slapped his trembling hand over his mouth and stared straight though his mother at the wooden door, eyes blood-shot and wet, just as his uncle started to bellow loudly.

“SILENCE! Otherwise, there’ll be no food for the next two weeks! You hear me, boy?”

Lily put a hand on Harry’s back. His body twitched and trembled with suppressed sobs.

_My darling._

Harry turned to his side, pulled the thin, dirty bed sheet over his small body and closed his eyes tightly. Just before he fell asleep Lily heard him mutter, “Mummy! Daddy! Please.”

*~*HP*~*

Booming laughter reached his ears as he cowered on a branch, peered around it and tried to assess whether Ripper could jump up the two metres separating him from a panicked Harry Potter. He doubted it. This dog was way too fat to jump more than then inches high. His pant leg was torn slightly. When he had tried to climb the tree as quickly as possible, Ripper had caught his leg and had tried to pull him down so he could mangle him.

The branch on which he sat was relatively thin. For the first time in his six-year life he thanked anyone who would listen that he was given only leftovers to eat – if at all.

Lily hovered underneath her son and watched the yapping dog barking itself into a frenzy. Would she be able to manage a kick he would feel?

Vernon’s sister Marge was standing a few feet away from her, fat as ever, the moustache still unshaved. Grumbling, she wondered whether Marge really was a woman. She only looked like one with a lot of imagination. On the other hand, she had the same genes as the pot whale himself, so she shouldn’t expect too much.

Dudley had lost his interest some time ago and was sitting in front of the TV, a package of donuts in his lap. If he kept the eating habits of the last years, he wouldn’t reach the age of forty. How could Petunia not see that?

Ah, when one spoke of the devil. Her lovely sister stood about two metres behind her sister-in-law and her husband and observed the situation as an outsider. Harry, who clearly needed help, she ignored, instead she glared daggers at Ripper, as if he was responsible for her messed-up life. She had never liked dogs.

_I cannot believe it! These monkeys just stand there and laugh at my son? Oh, just how much I would give to be alive again and give them all a good kick in their fat arses and then hex them into the next century!_

Lily couldn’t agree more.

*~*HP*~*

“…and so we were forced to inform you that today your nephew was found during lunch break on the roof of the main building. He denied ever having climbed the roof. We therefore ask you to talk to him about this incident and hope that it won’t happen again. Sincerely, the Headmistress.”

Harry gulped and took a step back when his uncle slowly looked up from the letter and glared at him, his small pig eyes glinting dangerously. “Boy!”

“I swear I didn’t do anything!” Harry drew back another step when his uncle got up and started to build up in front of him. “Steven and his friends chased me and suddenly I was on the roof! I don’t even know how I ended up there! It wasn’t on purpose!”

_Accidental magic._

Lily nodded. If she and James were still alive, they would have explained to Harry by now why all these strange things happened around him. Just like the incident with the hair cut as her sister had disfigured her son’s hair and the next morning all of it had grown back. Harry had been given three weeks of closet arrest and a week without anything to eat, even though he couldn’t have been held responsible for it at all!

Lily already started to boil with rage just thinking about it! Harry had to be so scared without having the slightest idea about what was wrong with him.

“Do. Not. Say. Another. Word.” Vernon hissed the words with so much hatred in his voice that Harry instinctively flinched and turned towards the staircase. He knew what was about to happen.

“You’re a freaking no-good, just like your damned parents! A bunch of freaks! Doesn’t help that this rabble couldn’t raise you, because they’ve managed to get so wasted that now we’re stuck with you. Hah, don’t make me laugh! As long as you’re living under my roof, you’ll stop with these abnormalities, you got that, boy?”

Harry tried desperately to fight the tears that every time his uncle said something about his parents, tried to obscure his sight.

“And now get into the closet! NOW!”

Harry whirled around and ran through the kitchen, into the hallway, threw open the small wooden door and rushed inside. His uncle was panting after him and arrived just in time to slam the door shut with full force.

“And that’s where you’ll stay for the next week! And today there’ll be no food for you!”

Harry picked himself up from the dusty floor and sat down on the too small mattress. He quickly wiped the tears from his cheeks and squeezed his eyes shut to prevent more from running down his cheeks.

“No. I don’t believe that,” he whispered, sniffling softly.

Lily knelt down next to her son and fought against her own tears. The feeling of having to cry didn’t vanish with death.

Both she and James knew what the Dursleys had told Harrys about them. They had told him father had been a drunk, unemployed and violent. His mother had not given a shit about him, and hadn’t done anything to prevent his drunken father to drive them to a certain death.

Lily put her head in her hands and took a deep breath to calm herself. Not even one person of the wizarding world had come by for the last seven years that Harry was stuck here to see how her baby was doing! Harry knew nothing about his identity, about his magic and about his parents. It broke her heart and even if James wasn’t able to talk with her because their connection would be in danger of collapsing due to prolonged contact, she could still fell his anger and bitter despair deep inside of her. She felt the same way.

When she looked back up, she saw Harry’s bright green eyes had adopted a defiant look. He was tired to hear all the time that his parents had not loved him! He didn’t believe that!

“Mum and Dad would never do that! I just know it!”

Sobbing, Lily wrapped her arms around her son, keeping a small distance from his skin, so she wouldn’t pass right through him.

_Oh, Harry!_

*~*HP*~*

Harry stared at the bag in his hand, trying very hard not to give in to the impulse to throw it into the next best garbage can. His first ever Christmas present was therefore a small, holey bag with crumbs in it that slowly made their way through the large meshes of the fabric and trickled on to the ground.

Harry blinked. Why? Why didn’t they just lock him in the closet like every Christmas and continue to ignore him? That would be better to cope with than this joke his aunt called a ‘gift’. He had learned early on that they hated him, but that was a bit of a stretch.

Lily was furious and even James’ upset calls couldn’t stop her to frantically try to pick up vases, flowers and chairs and throwing them into her sister’s direction. Every time she passed right through the objects, she growled even louder and tried the next item. Kicking didn’t work either.

*~*HP*~*

Lily hovered beside her eleven year old son and tried desperately to get him to understand that he had to go through the wall between platform nine and ten to get to the Hogwarts Express. But as much as she tried, Harry searched the crowd again and again, looking completely lost. He had even asked one of the guards whether he could show him the way to platform nine and three-quarters, had then, however, quickly made his way back through the crowd as the man began to berate him. There just had to be a way to get in touch with Harry! But how?

Harry pushed his trolley with his suitcase and an owl on top to the edge and took advantage of the small break to look around.

_Why didn’t Hagrid tell him how to get onto the platform?_

Lily sighed. _I’m wondering that too, James. I haven’t got the slightest idea. Now Harry is left to wonder around all alone and somehow figure out how to get to the school train that would transport him to the British school of magic,_ she said sarcastically. _As if that’s going to work if he can only ask Muggles._

Lily bit her lip. How badly she wanted to just take his hand and tell him in a soothing voice that all he had to do was to step through the wall in front of him and she and his Daddy would soon follow to kiss him goodbye.

*~*HP*~*

“What are you playing at?”

Harry stared at Justin Finch-Fletchley, as if he had grown a third eye. What was he talking about? He had just prevented him from getting bitten by the snake! What was his problem?

When he straightened up and looked around to ask Hermione and Ron whether they knew what had gotten his wand in a twist, he saw all the eyes of his classmates and his teachers focused on him – all of them were wide with fear. What was going on?

He spun around, ran along the duelling platform, through the Great Hall and through the double doors, closely followed by his two best friends.

_Harry is a Parselmouth?_

_Seems like it_. Puzzled, Lily blinked as she watched her son disappear around the corner. Ron and Hermione hurried after him, probably anxious to know why Harry had never told them about his talent.

_Has something like this ever happened in your family before? It’s impossible he has it from my side of the family, seeing that all of them are Muggles._

This was followed by silence as James went through his family tree in thought. _No, not that I know of. My family is full of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, without exception. There has never been a Slytherin, let alone Slytherin himself._

_Strange._

*~*HP*~*

“ _Avada Kedavra_!”

“ _Expelliarmus_!”

Lily bit her lip as the two spells met each other and their son was fighting for his life – again. How could he be in the safest place the world had to offer and yet get attacked each year?

Harry’s arms began to shake under the enormous effort. Gasping, he clutched his wand more tightly in order to push the glowing orb that had been created by the two spells hitting each other towards Voldemort. For some reason, he knew he mustn’t allow it anywhere near his own wand tip. Drops of sweat trickled down his temples as he desperately tried to send the ball back into the wand of his parents’ murderer. He could do it! He had to if he wanted to get out of there alive!

_What’s happening?_

Lily jumped as she heard James’ voice in her ear. She had forgotten all about him.

 _Harry is duelling Voldemort_ , she whispered and watched wide-eyed as the glowing ball was pushed further and further towards Voldemort.

She felt James’ excitement and fear for their son’s life through their connection. She didn’t blame him. She felt the same way. Sure, they knew that Harry would sooner or later keep them company, but that moment wasn’t supposed to be now! It was way too early for him to die! He was supposed to lead a long, happy life! A life, in which he was happily married, maybe even had children and had nothing to regret. He was supposed to overcome all his burdens of his young life. But she hadn’t seen him being completely happy for years and it broke her heart.

If there was someone who deserved to be happy, then it was her Harry. She would give anything to see him happy. She would make sure that he would be happy!

A deafening bang filled the silence on the cemetery when the orb collided with Voldemort’s wand and seemed to explode. Thin golden threads wriggled out of it and surrounded the murderer and her son, locking them into a magical cage. With a jerk, she could feel the connection between James and her shatter, but had no time to cry out in shock, as in the next moment she was pulled towards Voldemort and disappeared in the darkness of the wand.

Harry stared at the tip of his opponent’s wand and watched as one body after another seemed to float out of it. An old man, a woman with medium length hair and glasses, Cedric – he gulped – and ultimately the two people he had not seen in thirteen years; his parents. He gasped as they glided over and came to a halt right next to him.

“Mum?” His voice was trembling. “Dad?”

They smiled at him lovingly.

“Harry, listen to me,” James’ voice echoed from the golden walls of the bell-shaped globe. “We can delay him, but only for a moment. Then you’ll need to run, you hear me? Flee! Seek shelter! Be safe!”

Harry nodded frantically, staring at him with tear-filled eyes. James smiled at him sadly and nodded slightly.

“We are proud of you, son,” he whispered, running his transparent hand over Harry’s tousled hair.

Sniffling, Harry tried to smile.

“Harry?” His head spun around. Cedric hovered a few feet in front of him, a snivelling smile on his lips as he watched the scene before him. “Take me with you, okay? Bring my body back to my father.”

Harry nodded. Yes, he would do that!

“Honey,” Lily gave him a kiss on the cheek as she looked at him with blood-shot eyes. “You’re ready. Let go, sweetheart. Let go!”

*~*HP*~*

Horrified and helpless, Lily had to watch Sirius, one of her best friends and brother, lose his footing, the last mocking laughter still on his lips, fall backwards and disappear behind the veil. That couldn’t be happening! Not Sirius! No, please! Not Sirius!

 _SIRIUS!_ James’ blood-curling scream was enough to push her onto her knees. She could only stand by helplessly and watch as Harry broke away from Remus’ clasp and sprinted after Bellatrix Lestrange, murder in mind.

*~*HP*~*

_He’s going into the forest, isn’t he?_

_Yes_ , Lily whispered as she watched her son take the snitch Dumbledore had left him out of his pocket, muttered something and stared at the small black stone, which was located inside the snitch.

Lily frowned. _Is that…?_

_Lily? What’s going on?_

_I think Harry has just found the Resurrection Stone_ , she said soberly and watched as Harry took it out of the little golden ball and inspected it carefully. _It was inside of the snitch._

She felt James swallow. He knew why Dumbledore had left her son the stone, just as she knew it. He was supposed to greet death with open arms without looking back.

 _He’s turning it_ , she whispered, staring intently at Harry. One, two, three times he turned the Resurrection Stone in his blood-crusted and dirty hand, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Lily jumped as a warm feeling in her arms and legs made her whole body tingle. Something wasn’t right. Was that…? Lily’s eyes widened when she saw Harry’s soft smile and judging by the determined expression on his face, she knew what kind of feeling that was. She smiled. She would finally be able to speak with her beloved son! After all these years in which she had tried to make him realize that he was not alone.

Carefully, she took a step forward and flinched as twig broke apart beneath her feet. Her smile became broader. The leaves rustled at her feet as she walked over them. She could move them! She would be able to touch Harry and he would be able to see her!

Carefully, she came to a halt right in front of her son. His eyes were still firmly closed, the effort was written all over his beautiful face. Whether he wondered if it would really work? She wanted nothing more than to hug him, pepper him with kisses and never let him go. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him and how very proud she was of him. But as long as he had his eyes closed, she was silent. She didn’t want to scare him. Her wonderful, perfect son! How much he looked like James. The nose, the hair, the ears. She smiled at the thought that the cheekbones and eyes were definitely got from her. And his jaw was shaped a little rounder and softer than James’. However, she also recognized his father in that part of his handsome face.

Slowly he opened his eyes and Lily’s breath, as always, caught in her throat as she looked into the emerald green of his eyes – _her_ eyes. She smiled at him lovingly, overjoyed that his eyes focused on her, and overly proud of what kind of person he had become.

She felt him before she heard him. James’ light steps were hard to hear, but as he stood next to her she didn’t know what hit her. She had not seen him in sixteen years, had only ever heard his voice, and to have him standing beside her now took away her ability to speak. Right now, she couldn’t be happier; James next to her and her son before her.

He had become such a wonderful person – kind, friendly, polite, courageous, loving… and powerful. And she knew that if anyone would be able to help them improve James’ and her connection and free James from Godric’s Hollow, then it was Harry – her son.

“We are so proud of you,” James’ whispered words snapped her back to the present. Pride and undying love for their son illuminated his eyes, his face, his whole being. “So unspeakably proud.”

“I didn’t want you to die for me. None of you. I didn’t want that,” Harry’s voice trailed off as tears ran down his scratched cheeks and left wet traces behind.

With a sad smile, she looked at him. “We know that,” she whispered, not sure if she could trust her voice. She kissed Harry gently on the forehead. How often had she done that all these years before without Harry feeling her touch, she didn’t know. But he felt it now – his eyes closed for a moment and Lily had to fight her own tears.

“We don’t blame you for what has happened to us.” He had to understand that none of this was his fault, that it wasn’t his fault that they couldn’t be with him.

Next to her James seemed to think he same. He smiled and nodded slightly. Behind them they could feel the air move as Remus and Sirius slowly approached the little family.

“Sirius,” his soft voice barely above a whisper.  “Remus.”

James did not need to turn around to know that his best friends were beaming at his son. After Sirius had fallen through the veil, although they hadn’t seen him again, he had still managed to get in contact with them from time to time. Thanks to him they knew before Harry did that Remus was now with Sirius.

“Hello, Harry.”

Harry sniffled and wiped the tears from his eyes when blinking alone didn’t work anymore. The smile that tried to reach his lips looked painful and sad. He wasn’t happy. James and Lily hat vowed after Harry’s birth that they would do everything in their power to see Harry happy, to make sure he would be happy. They had not wanted the war to take away his childhood and light-heartedness. He didn’t deserve that.

 _James?_ He turned to Lily and saw that she looked at him with a determined expression. _We have to try!_

He nodded and turned his attention back to his son. They had to tell him that they were with him and in need of his help! They somehow had to make him understand that only he could free and unban them.

Behind them his best friends disappeared in a swirl of colours. He was aware of them not doing Harry any kind of favour by visiting his dreams to speak to him, but they didn’t have another choice. With each passing day their connection to each other grew weaker and weaker and it was only a matter of time before it would finally collapse. He put all his concentration into this one thought and felt Lily do the same.

“No! Remus! Sirius! Stay with me! I don’t know what to do!”

Harry leapt forward and watched desperately as his two uncles vanished. Lily took his dirty hand in hers and tried to smile at him. James put his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. How much he had missed that feeling…

“You have to listen to us now, darling. It’s important.”

James could feel Harry’s subconscious struggle against their intrusion. They didn’t have much time left.

“We need your help.”

His son looked at her, confused, and frowned. He would never get used to the look of these eyes, and he didn’t want to. “My help?”

James struggled with all his might against Harry’s subconscious mind. He didn’t blame his son for trying to fight the intrusion from the outside. He didn’t know that it was his parents and not some random, leftover Death Eater, who wanted to cause him pain. His hand on Lily’s hip clenched as she turned to look him in the eyes. Oh Merlin, how beautiful she was. Even the last sixteen years had not been able to banish this sight from his memory. It was burned into his mind forever. Lily smiled slightly and put her warm, soft hand on his cheek.

“Mum?”

Her smile widened as her fingers brushed over his skin, gazing lovingly into his eyes. “We can do it! I’ll keep on waiting.”

They both felt his power to maintain the connection subside.

With a wistful smile to her, he turned to his son. The last thing he saw was the bright green of his eyes.

“Dad? DAD!”

Lily stifled a sob and quickly turned to her son. She had no more time. She still had to tell him so much, but she barely even had the strength to formulate a decent thought. She had to tell him that they needed him!

“Your father is where I was before.” Her voice whispered the words without her noticing it. “It happened sixteen years ago and since then we are trapped.”

_I have to tell him!_

“Trapped? What are you talking about?” Harry looked confused, trying desperately to make some sense of her tangled words. She could only hope he succeeded.

“You are going to help us, aren’t you, sweetheart? Please!”

“I don’t even know what you are talking about!”

_No! Please! I need more time! He must understand! Please, Harry! Please understand!_

“Please, Harry.” She felt her strength diminish and Harry’s subconscious win the struggle. She took a deep breath and tried to concentrate more, but it was no use.

“Please,” was the last thing she could shout before she was ripped out of Harry’s dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think!
> 
> Until next time - see ya :)


	6. Going for a Walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand here is the next chapter! Enjoy reading, guys :D

**Going for a Walk**

Slowly, he stirred the brown, hot liquid in the cup in front of him and watched as the swirls caused the liquid to slosh against the porcelain the mug was made of. Normally one would say that a cup of black tea at three o’clock in the morning might not have a soothing effect on the drinker, but Harry couldn’t care less about how much caffeine was being pumped through his system at the moment.

“Okay, just to make sure, I got it all,” Hermione held her own cup in her hand as she slowly walked up and down in front of the table.

Harry continued to stare into the brown liquid, which mirrored the silver of the spoon and the flame of the candle on the wooden kitchen table.

“You see shadows and shimmers and colours although there’s nothing there and you have dreams about your parents asking for your help.” Hermione stopped and frowned.

Harry nodded miserably and looked up at her. “I know this sounds crazy. I think I’m slowly getting paranoid or something. All the dark curses must have done something to my brain after all….” Harry sighed and stared morosely at the opposite wall.

“And you said all of that has begun after St. Mungo’s? You haven’t seen anything like that before the battle? Anything at all?”

“No, I’ve never experienced anything like that before. Since I’m back home I see things that don’t exist. At least, I think that they don’t exist. See? I don’t even know what’s really there and what isn’t!” Frustrated, he ran his hands through his tousled hair and pulled on it.

“I go into a room and see someone moving out of the corner of my eye or walking to me and when I turn around to find out who broke into my house nobody’s there. I see things that look like Protection Spells which can’t be possible, because I am the only one that can cast any sorts of spells on anything that’s in this house and even if that should no longer be the case, you are the only one, apart from me, that enters this building at all and I suppose you’d tell me if you were to decide to put wards on books, wardrobes or bedside lamps.”

Hermione blinked. “Um, yes. Of course I would, but why would I do something like that in the first place?”

“That is why it is unlikely that those things are Protection Spells.” Harry took another sip of his tea, warming his hands on the sides of his cup.

“If I throw something at it, it just flies right through it. I would just bounce off if it was a Protection Spell after all,” he grumbled and looked into the liquid in his mug, hoping it would hypnotise him into believing he wasn’t going insane.

“In the beginning I thought that if I just ignored these things, they would have to stop at some point, you know? I thought if I could convince myself that there was nothing that could possibly cause such incidents, I would eventually stop seeing them. I have tried, you can believe me! This morning, just before Ginny came over and just before you’ve told me that you’ve ended things with Ron,” Hermione gulped and sat down opposite him, “a cup fell out of the cupboard. Just like that. I was just about to make breakfast and I swear the cupboard’s doors were shut! I had not yet taken my cup out of it.

“And now I ask you, how can it be that firstly, something is able to fall out of a locked cabinet and shatter on the floor, and secondly, how can it be possible that all of this happened without anyone near enough to open the cupboard and take out a cup, because I was the only one in the otherwise empty house?”

Hermione’s frown deepened even further. Harry was almost able to see the smoke rise from her ears. She put her cup down, got up and went to the cabinet that hosted most of the china. Slowly, she turned the knob and opened the door to inspect the cups inside, as if one might jump up and announce that it had been its cousin who hadn’t been able to wait any longer to finally breathe some fresh air.

“Strange,” she murmured, closing the door again, only to open it again a few seconds later. “Very strange.”

“You can say that again,” Harry muttered contritely as he watched her desperately looking for a logical explanation. Something was wrong here. All the incidents, events and dreams were not normal.

Sure, he had had dreams for his entire life. When they weren’t about Voldemort, he had to watch how his friends were murdered again and again. However, in his current dreams, no one was killed. Well, if you ignored the last dream. They were all about his parents. Sometimes with, sometimes without Sirius and Remus, but his parents had always been a part of them. And again and again they had told him that he had to help them. They begged him. But with what should he help them? They were dead! How was he possibly supposed to help dead people?

“I don’t know,” Hermione said, as he expressed his concerns out loud. “I really don’t know.”

Desperate, she threw her cup into the sink and looked at him with narrowed eyes. Harry was slightly uncomfortable under her piercing stare.

“Tell me again – what happens in these dreams? How are they structured? Although I don’t think highly of Divination because this branch of magic is just too vague for today’s standards and I think the fact that it is still taught at Hogwarts is basically some kind of tradition because no sane person could possibly believe it is important enough for the students to get the opportunity to study it, but perhaps this will bring us a little further? Even a little bit? I mean, in all seriousness? What do we have to lose?” Hermione took a deep breath.

Harry looked up at her and gazed into her chocolate brown eyes. Small golden spots wound themselves through the warm dark brown and gave them an almost magical appearance. Blinking, he shook his head. No, he could not think of that now! His emotions would be more of a hindrance at the moment. There were more important things to do!

He cleared his throat. “Erm, well, first all of the dreams start off as memories. For example, I run through the Forbidden Forest to face Voldemort and use the Resurrection Stone.”

Hermione nodded. Her tongue ran over her dry lips and for a moment Harry stared in awe at the little pink tongue tip, which ran over her lower lip. He rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to keep his blood from rushing into regions that could be very embarrassing in this situation – any situation, for that matter.

He took a deep breath to calm himself. With his eyes closed and head bowed he continued.

“Everything is exactly as I remember it, until suddenly Mum or Dad asks me to help and free them. And whenever I ask how I am supposed to help them and what I could do to free them from whatever or wherever they are, I wake up.”

Depressed, Harry blinked up at Hermione’s face, her eyes seeing things beyond the kitchen wall in a too far distance for her to reach with her bare hands. She had her tousled hair in a messy ponytail that was nearly long enough to reach her pale shoulders. Her hands were clasped, her head propped onto them, as she nodded slowly.

“Okay. Well, I think it sounds as if you’re dreaming at first and then your parents somehow disturb that dream of yours. I don’t really know anything about the Magic of Souls and Spirits, but in my opinion it sounds like they want to get in touch with you,” Hermione frowned. “Hm. And the dreams have always been like that? Until just now?”

At the thought of his dream, or more likely nightmare, a shiver ran down his spine. The dead face of his father, his mother’s shaky figure – those images he could not and would never be able to remove from his thoughts, banish from his memory. They would forever be burnt into his memory, just like the scar on his forehead – always there and never to be forgotten.

When he looked up, he saw that Hermione was still waiting for a response. He nodded quickly and took a deep breath.

“Yes. I ran down the street in Godric’s Hollow, which leads to our house. The Dark Mark floated over the roof and the door had been blown off its hinges. As I ran into the house, I saw Dad lying at the foot of the stairs and in the next moment the ceiling collapsed and buried him under them beams and debris. After I have cleared him a little, he suddenly moved and stared at me! Mum appeared at the top of the stairs on the first floor and both persuaded me. I mean, I’ve heard the explosion as Voldemort released the curse upon my one-year old self, but I was one floor below them with my Dad – well, my dream-self was.

“The only memory I have of that night is how Voldemort killed my mum. The stuff I know from the other happenings that took place that night is what I’ve seen in Voldemort’s thoughts, but even he has not run down the street towards my house, totally frantic and panicked, only to find the house in the condition it was in after the attack. At that time, he was with me and Mum. Which means it cannot be a memory I’ve dreamed about that was then changed by my parents.”

Slowly, Hermione pushed a light brown curl out of her face. “Perhaps your subconscious has weaved your knowledge into your dream and then built the rest around it?” She didn’t sound really convinced.

“Or,” Harry said, leaning further over to her, “Mum and Dad really want to get in touch with me and slowly get frustrated, because I don’t understand what they want from me!”

“Yes, that’s possible,” she murmured. When she looked up at him, she had the way too familiar sparkle in her eyes and then he knew what was about to happen.

“I have to do some research, Harry. Can I use the Black Library? Perhaps there are some useful books about the Spirit World or Dream Interpretation. It can’t be all Dark Magic in there, can it?”

“Be my guest.” Grinning, he watched Hermione hastily leave the room, muttering frantically to herself and, with a loud bang, disappeared behind the door to the library.

*~*HP*~*

During the following days, Harry never set eyes on Hermione. Every few hours, he heard the door open and slam shut behind her as she made her trips to the restroom. He had made it his business to carry the food and drinks into the library, because he feared she wouldn’t eat at all otherwise.

Every now and then he stayed with her and kept her company, thumbed through a few books and tried to somehow help her with her research. To be able to do that, she had to tell him what exactly she was researching, but for that she was way too busy. And every single book about Dream Interpretation and Spirit World she had made sure to engross, so there was nothing else for it but to skim through the remaining books that were sadly all about Dark Magic.

‘ _Was one to take a pig’s heart instead of a human heart, the consequences would be severe. In lieu of omniscience, possible outcomes could be schizophrenia, hallucinations and uncontrollable Apparating; the Splinching would be one’s smallest problem. Now the collected blood has to be added to the concoction and stirred thrice clockwise, using a small silver staff. Doing this, it is important to check beforehand whether the blood is still warm and fresh because otherwise…’_

Disgusted, Harry slammed the book shut and threw it over his shoulder, causing it to bounce off the shimmering bookcase behind him and land on the ground, followed by a huge cloud of dust.

Angered, Hermione glared at him. “What was that for? I thought you wanted to help and not distract me by causing havoc?”

“Sorry,” Harry murmured and stood up to pick up the book.

He sneezed as he inhaled the dust. The shelf giggled. Contrite and addled, he looked up, only to find himself staring at shimmering spines of probably century old books. _I think I have to tell Kreacher to dust this place. Parts of this library haven’t seen a human being for years._

Shuddering, he eyed the spines and examined the yellowing symbols and runes that covered the whole book. Actually, he could have figured that the seven books Hermione had stacked on the desk next to her were the only ones that didn’t demand blood, entrails and sacrificial offerings.

*~*HP*~*

“Harry?”

Harry’s head jerked up as he heard Hermione’s voice right next to his ear. Tired, he rubbed his eyes and looked around, blinking. He was sitting at the kitchen table; his arms were folded on the table in front of him, a forgotten cup of tea standing a few inches away from his left hand. He had fallen asleep at the kitchen table out of sheer exhaustion. Considering the fact that he had not slept properly for weeks, it wasn’t something unforeseen.

The Sleeping Draughts that Hermione had brought him stood – almost untouched – in the cabinet in his bathroom; they didn’t work anymore. He had known that his body would get used to them sooner or later, but he hadn’t thought that it would happen so quickly.

Usually, when he took one of the potions, he fell asleep within a minute and woke about nine hours later on, wide awake and well rested. When he took the potion nowadays, although he fell asleep just as quickly and woke up about nine hours later, he was dreaming anyway.  During those nine hours, he could do nothing but endure one nightmare after another and hope that the next one would not be quite as horrifying, but he rarely ever had that much luck.

It was as if his conscious mind was suppressed or bound by the draught, but the potion was not strong enough to do the same with his subconscious mind.

The three nights he had taken the potion he had been trapped in his nightmares, so he had decided to no longer take the draught. He didn’t want to risk it. What good did it do him when, although his body had rested for nine hours, his mind, however, felt as if he had just gone through hell. No, he could do without it. Since he no longer took the potion, he didn’t fall asleep until very late and woke up in the middle of the night, covered in ice cold sweat and completely out of breath.

That had an impact on his daily routine. Having not been outside to enjoy some fresh air for several weeks now wasn’t exactly beneficial either.

Hermione seemed to have the exact same trail of thought as she knelt beside him and ran her hand through his tousled, messy hair, looking worried.

Harry closed his eyes and tried not to moan. She didn’t know it, but she always managed to calm him down with small gestures like that. The light lavender scent of her hair rose to his nose and he took a deep breath, inhaling the soothing sent. At this moment, he had to pull himself together as to not do anything rash he was sure he would regret later on.

She did not feel the same for him. He was sure of it. He was her best friend and best friends stayed best friends if they knew each other since childhood and had practically grown up together. The only reason that she had come over every day was that he allowed nobody else to set a foot into this house because he was afraid that at some point he might begin to talk to the shadows. If someone else than Hermione was with him at that precise moment, he would have some problems explaining the situation.

No, she had only done her duty as a best friend and had kept him company, just like she had done his entire life. That did not mean she liked him more than just a friend or a brother… right?

Harry shook his head to dispel those confusing thoughts out of his head. What was it again? He should concentrate to not do anything rash. Hermione was still sitting right next to him, dammit!

“Are you okay?” Her warm hand was now on his cheek. He could feel her warmth seep through his skin. He could feel it spread through him, seep into his bones, being pumped though his blood stream.… _Not helping, Harry!_

He cleared his throat and ran a hand over his face to hide his slightly bushing cheeks. “Yeah. I’m fine, I was just thinking.”

Hermione looked at him sceptically. “You look tired.”

Harry’s laughter was cold. Of course he was tired! He didn’t sleep more than three hours a night and that was only if the nightmares left him alone for those precious few hours.

“I am tired,” he turned his gaze to her and gulped as he looked into her chocolate brown eyes. The golden threads in them seemed to glow. He blinked. “I hardly get any sleep anymore. Sorry you had to see that. I must have fallen asleep.”

“The potions don’t help anymore?”

This woman was way too smart for her own good.

“Not really, no. I fall asleep quickly and don’t wake up, but that’s the problem. Despite the potion, I dream of my parents dying before my very eyes, Fred being hit by the _Avada Kedavra,_ Pettigrew killing Cedric…”

Hermione looked at him sadly. She too had nightmares about the war, but not to the extent as Harry.

“Maybe a walk would help; getting some fresh air?” She brushed her fingers gently over his cheek, kissed him on his forehead and pulled him to his feet. “You haven’t been outside for weeks. Maybe your body is lacking some exercise. Come one, fresh air will do you good.”

 _She’s probably right_ , Harry thought as he looked towards the stairs. She was always right, always knew what was best for him.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he muttered and let Hermione drag him up the stairs into the hallway and to the front door.

Once there, he took a deep breath and blinked through the small peephole, eyeing the street suspiciously. It was empty; except for a few children playing, not a soul was to be seen, but that didn’t have to say anything.

During the war the _Daily Prophet_ had told his employees to equip themselves with Invisibility Cloaks and Polyjuice Potion. This way they had overheard conversations between people who were a part of or supported the Order of the Phoenix. Almost all of those conversations had ended with the death of the participants. Therefore, it could very well be that not all reporters had ditched their means of camouflage, as against Kingsley’s first order as Minister of Magic.

It was good to breathe fresh air, he thought, as the wind blew the hair out of his face. It was a warm September evening. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the fact that he was finally outside again. He would not have thought how much he actually missed being out of the house. After all, he had spent the last year sleeping in a tent under the open night sky, traveling from place to place.

He turned around as Hermione closed the front door behind her and walked down the stairs. She smiled at him. “See? It’s not that bad, is it?”

Harry laughed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Hermione sucked in a jerky breath and tried in vain not to blush.

“True,” he agreed and led her down the street. “And until now it’s still rather calm out here. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

Harry’s expression darkened as he thought of the reporters and onlookers who had besieged him in the hospital.

According to Hermione, even more press people had apparated to Hogwarts to interview the survivors and to evaluate the extent of damage, horror and pain – physical or emotional – the final battle had caused. The reporters had marched right into the castle with their camera men and their Quick-Quotes Quills and had pestered the badly injured and grieving wizards and witches with questions. All the while the last killed people were transported to the Ministry in order to stay there until the funerals. Inconsiderate. But the _Daily Prophet_ had always been like that. Rita Skeeter was the perfect example.

“Say, what is going on between you and Ginny, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Harry blinked and turned to look at Hermione, who had turned her face away from him and seemed busy studying the side of the road. Flabbergasted, Harry stopped walking. _Where did that come from all of a sudden?_

“Why do you ask?”

The part of Hermione’s face he saw peeping out from behind her hair was beet red.

“Just because. I mean, I’ve told you everything about that thing with Ron,” she murmured. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m merely curious. I haven’t seen you together for a long time and whenever I meet her, she talks about something else.”

Hastily, Hermione pushed a few strands of chestnut brown hair out of her face, which were blown back into her eyes again and again.

After a short pause in which Hermione desperately thought about whether she had offended Harry or had been too nosy in his opinion, he took a deep breath and replied in a hushed voice.

“There’s nothing going on between us.” Sighing, he pushed his free hand through his messy hair. “You know that I’ve broken up with her right after Dumbledore’s funeral, right?”

Hermione nodded.

“Well, I’ve told her that her safety was the reason. That I couldn’t be with her, because she would be in enough danger as it is, just because she knows me. At that time, that was probably the main reason why.…”

Hermione waited for him to continue talking, which he did after some time.

“I thought I had made myself clear that day that without me she would be better off than with me. She seemed to have understood it differently. On the day you arrived, she came over in the morning. She said she wanted to talk to me… about our relationship. Now that I’m healthy again and not on Dumbledore’s mission anymore, we might want to start from the beginning again and give us another chance.”

He shook his head and took another deep breath. “I told her that I couldn’t do that. Too much has happened to simply pick back up my former life and continue on seamlessly. I can’t and I won’t do that. I’m not the right one for her. She just has to see that for herself.”

Hermione brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and looked at him thoughtfully.

“What is it?”

Hermione blinked. “I just remembered something. When you were still in a coma and I stayed at your bedside, Ginny came for a visit once and said something along those lines as well. That you did end your relationship, but didn’t mean it like that and she hoped to start over again.”

She didn’t tell him the part with the tears, kissing and body contact on purpose. He didn’t need to know how his ex-girlfriend treated him when he could not defend himself.

“That’s what I feared,” Harry groaned and ran a hand through his hair, which thereupon stood up in every direction, even more so than before.

“Maybe she needs some time to fully understand and accept it?” Hermione turned her gaze away from him to hide her red cheeks.

It was a strange feeling to talk to Harry about his girlfriend. _Ex-girlfriend, do not forget that! He broke up with her. He isn’t in a relationship with anyone!_

She brushed a lock of hair that the wind had blown into her face behind her ear. It made her uncomfortable to talk to him about it. Sure, they had often discussed Harry’s and her interests in that area, but that was before she had acknowledged and accepted her feelings for him. She quickly shook her head to dispel these thoughts.

_No! Harry’s off-limits!_

_Why? He has broken up with Ginny and has never said that he’s interested in someone else._

_Exactly! He doesn’t have his eyes on anyone and that includes me!_

_Oh, come on! This is Harry! You’ve known him for years. It doesn’t hurt anyone if you’d give him some hidden, innocent hints._

_But why should Harry be interested in me? Honestly! I’m his best friend. He thinks of me as a sister. There’s nothing romantic in that._

_Are you sure about that?_

_Urgh! I’m doing it again! I’m having a fight with myself! Just shut the hell –_

_Not my fault! I am you, you are me._

_Shut up!_

Amused, Harry watched curiously as the emotions displayed on Hermione’s face changed by the second, only to be replaced by another. She seemed to fight out an inner battle with herself.

Chuckling, he had to think of the thousands of times in which he and Ron had tried to follow her train of thought, because in most cases the whole derivation happened in her head. She only ever told them the result, but how she came to that conclusion was to be her secret to never be told. An impatient _‘Ah, it doesn’t matter’_ made it clear that their discussion was over and they did what she thought was the most logical way to go about a situation, without even the slightest idea as to how she had thought of her brilliant plan.

He smiled as the red of her cheeks got darker, resulting in her turning her head further away from him. He wondered what she was thinking about.

A gust of wind ruffled her hair and blew a light brown curl into Hermione’s flushed face. With all his might he forced himself to put his twitching hand into the pocket of his jeans to not brush the lock off her rosy cheek. That would probably make this whole conversation more awkward than it already was.

What did she have that Ginny didn’t? Well, apart from the fact that they were total opposite in appearance and character. Ginny was spirited, athletic, funny and outgoing. She loved being in the limelight. She loved it when everyone saw that she was good at something – especially Quidditch. She had a great sense of humour, but could also be quite imperious and direct when something did not go according to her plan and will.

Hermione on the other hand…. Harry sighed. She was perfect. She didn’t like being in the centre of attention either. She only went to watch the Quidditch matches because he was on the team. She enjoyed reading, was curious and knew what she wanted. But she argued her points of view with well thought out arguments and not with volume. She calmed him when he needed to rest. She made him laugh when he needed someone to cheer him up. She was there for him whenever he needed her – not Ron, not Ginny, no. _Her._ It was always her, always had been!

During the first few years he had made good use of her knowledge, had needed her to get good marks, as well as moral support when the _Daily Prophet_ or any classmates spread rumours about him.

She had always been there for him. He knew that at some point, between all these moments of support, encouragement and boundless friendship, his feelings for her had changed. He didn’t know when that had happened exactly, but he knew when it had hit him like a Reducto Curse, blinding him, making him understand the strange feeling he had had for such a long time.

He knew he wouldn’t stand there and think about all of this if it hadn’t been for Hermione, who had been at his side all those endless years. She had not only saved his sanity, but also his life more than once; and for that he would never be able to thank her enough.

Hermione’s gasp tore him out of his reverie. She grabbed his hand, which was still lying on her shoulder, turned around and hurried back in the direction they had come from. Behind them they could hear the sound of many footsteps and excited voices, seemingly following them.

“Don’t turn around, Harry,” Hermione said as her steps gained more speed and force, dragging him around a corner into a rather narrow alleyway. He could see the row of houses in front of them; the number twelve was, as always, hidden under the Fidelius Charm. He and Hermione were therefore the only ones who knew about the house they were rushing to.

“Mr Potter!”

Harry groaned and began to run. That couldn’t be happening. Did they hide everywhere, waiting and hoping for a chance to ambush him? He scoffed. _Seriously_.

“Mr Potter! Are you planning to speak to the aggrieved parties sometime soon? Have you visited the families who have suffered losses? When do you plan to give a press conference? Mr Potter!”

Panting, Hermione pushed the garden door open, pulled Harry down the short pathway to the house and stood gasping for air in front of the entry door, clutching her side. Harry rested his hands on his knees and tried to get his breathing under control.

“’ _Fresh air will do me good.’_ Really, Hermione?”

Hermione blinked at the reporters, who were gathered in front of the garden gate, looking confused, searching for the two war heroes, who seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Smiling, she turned to Harry. “Well, at least we had some exercise.”

Harry rolled his eyes. _Of course…._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wipes away tears of laughter* I can so imagine them - especially Harry - running away from reporters xD
> 
> I hope you liked it!
> 
> Until next time - see ya!


	7. Dream Interpretation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy reading!

**Dream Interpretation**

Laughing, Hermione opened the door and pushed Harry into the hallway.

“Think positive – they didn’t catch you.”

“You mean, they didn’t catch _us_ ,” Harry grinned and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I’m just saying – I am not the only one who has won the war.”

Giggling, Hermione tried to free herself from his arms. “I guess you’re right with that, but you are the only one about whom they care.”

“Do you want to say that you’re uninteresting?”

“No, I want to say that they probably have not chased us down several streets in full sprint because of me. Stop it,” Hermione jerked laughing and tried to swat Harry’s hand away.

“Are you ticklish?” Harry grinned maliciously, but let her go, deciding to slowly approach her with a wicked twinkle in his eyes instead. “Hermione and ticklish? Why didn’t I know about that before?”

She gulped. “Ticklish? Me? No, what made you think that?”

The green of his eyes lit up. That gleaming did not bode well – at least not for her. Slowly, he came up to her; step by step, he came closer and with every centimetre she found it harder to keep her breathing under control and to not just stare him in the eye, as if under some kind of hypnosis.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Harry raised his arms, supporting himself on the left and right spot of the wall next to her head. He had her cornered. “From my own experience?”

Smiling, Hermione blinked at her best friend, a clever remark on her tongue, but when she looked into his bright green eyes, her breath caught in her throat. He was so _close_. She could see every shade, every pore of his flawless and pale skin. She could feel his breath caressing her hot cheek, giving her goosebumps.

He had never been so close before. Ever. She gulped.

Just a few centimetres separated her from these shapely, pink lips that looked even more promising and enticing seeing them in such a close proximity than she would have thought possible. How would it feel like to touch them with hers? Whether they really were as gentle and soft as she imagined them to be? Just a few centimetres and she would know the answer…

She blinked. Harry’s breathing was haltingly and irregular. His pupils were dilated; she was sure hers were too. Should she dare? Again, her eyes darted to his lips. Just a few centimetres and –

“Am I interrupting something?”

Hermione shrieked and jumped violently. Harry jumped away from her, his face bright red, his eyes wide with terror.

Ginny stood less than four feet away from them, her arms crossed over her chest and an evil glint in her eyes. If looks could kill….

“Ginny!” Harry hastily ran his hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “What… What are you doing here?”

When he got no response, he became even redder. “W-When did you get here? I didn’t –“

“See me?” Ginny’s voice was ice cold. “Yes, I’ve figured as much.”

Hermione gulped. Her eyes darted back and forth between Harry and his ex-girlfriend, not knowing what to say.

That wasn’t good. This situation was anything but good! Has she just been about to kiss Harry? _Harry?_ What had she been thinking? He was her best friend, damn it! And she knew very well that Ginny was not yet over him and yet she threw herself all over him? She knew him for her whole childhood and he had never been more than a good friend – at least officially. She knew only too well that she secretly imagined how it might feel to be held in his –

_Oh my God, Hermione! What is wrong with you???_

“Yes, it was more than obvious that you didn’t see me,” Ginny snapped. “You were too _busy_ , weren’t you?”

Harry blinked and looked over at Hermione, only to quickly lower his gaze after meeting her eyes. He didn’t think that there had ever been a moment in his life before in which he had had such an imposing red coloured face that gave all of the Weasleys put together a serious competition.

Again his hand nervously twitched towards his hair that already looked as if he had just been hit by lightning – thrice.

Ginny sniffled and glared at him, her eyes brighter than usual.

“How could you?” she whispered.

A red strand of hair escaped her braid and tickled her on the cheek. Impatiently, she brushed it behind her ear.

“How could you do this to me?”

Her contours blurred a little and Harry ran his hand over his eyes, puzzled. They were dry.

“I have been waiting for you all this time, you know that? Of course, you know. I have told you that myself. But you didn’t understand, right? No, you didn’t,” she shook her head disdainfully and sniffled again.

“All this drivel about _‘The time I spend with you was wonderful’_ or _‘I don’t regret anything’_ was all a huge lie, wasn’t it? I have sacrificed a whole year of my life for you, Harry _Potter_ ,” she hissed his name with so much hatred that Harry flinched away from her.

“A whole year spent in the foolish belief that, once everything was over, we could start all over again. You have given me false hope! And I actually believed that it could still work out with us! _And then you start snogging Hermione behind my back_? How sad is that?”

“Behind you back? Seriously?” Harry took a step towards her and looked her straight in the eye.

“I broke up with you over a year ago, Ginny, and I only just told you some time ago that my opinion on that matter has not changed in the slightest! I told you that you mustn’t wait for me, because there is nothing that could make the waiting worth it. _I do not want to be with you_ , don’t you understand that? How many times do I have to tell you that I do not have any feelings for you anymore for you to finally get it?”

Hermione’s gaze flicked from Harry to Ginny and back again. They were almost standing so close at the moment that it was almost uncomfortable to watch. Only one more step separated Ginny from throwing herself into Harry’s arms, only Harry’s expression seemed to make her keep her – even small and nearly not existing – distance.

Slowly, Hermione took a step towards the stairs. She wanted to leave the two alone and not take a hand in their problems.

“I have told you a year ago that I would wait for you, Harry! _I_ have kept my word! And _you_!”

Hermione winced.

“You stay here, Missy!”

Slowly, she turned around to see an enraged Ginny Weasley standing in front of her.

Harry huffed angrily. “That has _nothing_ to do with her, get it? This is a matter between the two of us, so leave Hermione out of this!”

“And now you’re defending this bitch? Seriously?”

“GENEVRA WEASLEY!” Hermione had never heard Harry holler before.

“How dare you! You come here, _break into my house_ and then even have the nerve to make a scene and insult my best friend?”

“She very well is more than _just a best friend_.”

“That is _nothing_ to do with you! That’s my business you’re talking about and _my_ private life and I can spend my time with the people with whom I want to be together! And you are definitely not one of them! I do not want to have you here, Ginny! I don’t know what I have to do for you to finally get it into that thick skull of yours!”

“So that’s it?” Ginny straightened up and glared at both Harry and Hermione.

Her face had last some of its redness. Grey had mingled into its colour now, giving her a rather unhealthy appearance.

“You break up with me because of the Bookworm? You’re breaking up with me because you want to be with someone else?”

“How often do I need to repeat myself? We. Are. Not. A. Couple! We haven’t been one for over a year. I broke up with you after Dumbledore’s funeral! I cannot end things with someone or cheat on someone with whom I am no longer together! Just back off, Ginny. Please, leave my house.”

Ginny straightened up and pushed her fists into her waist.

“Fine. If you want me to. But you’ll never see me again anytime soon, I swear! Enjoy your time with this… _person_! You are both equally bad. First you and Ron,” she pushed Hermione out of her way, “and now you as well.”

Sneering, she shook her head and looked at Harry sympathetically. “I pity you.”

*~*HP*~*

‘ _Like all wizards and witches of Britain and all over the world know, the Quidditch World Cup will start in five months. Teams from all around the world will compete against one another, but only one team and country can win._

_Yesterday at the official Quidditch World Cup press conference, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, has announced that he has already met with the captain of the National Seven to discuss tactics and strategies of the team._

_As it turns out, so Shacklebolt, there are still two positions to be filled. Is the national team not able to find replacements for former players during the next two weeks, England won’t be allowed to participate this years and would thus have to wait until next year to have a chance at winning the championship._

_For this reason, unlike the other teams, England has not yet begun with the preparations._

_“We have to hurry with filling all position on the team,” said the new captain Roger Stinicle. “As long as I’m captain, England will at least make it to the finals and it is not acceptable that we may drop out of the tournament prematurely because of such a mess.”_

_All of England holds its breath and hopes that until the 23 rd of this month the team manages to find replacements for Davids and Hammilson, who, unfortunately, are currently residing at St. Mungo’s Hospital due to an incident in a dragon reservation._

_Both Stinicle and Minister Shacklebolt asked me to start an official call on the try-outs._

_The Britain National Seven is desperately looking for a Chaser and Seeker._

_I therefore ask you, if you have experience with Quidditch and have already successfully participated in at least four competitions, please come to the British Stadium on the 23 rd of this month._

_You will then be examined by Aurors, who will check your memories to make sure that you are qualified for a position on the team. Following the examination, the actual try-outs will take place._

_“We have a real chance to win, but that we can only manage with a full team,” Stinicle said in an interview with the_ Daily Prophet _. “So I really hope that many talented wizards and witches introduce themselves on the 23 rd, so we may have the privilege to hold the trophy in our hands for the first time in ten years!”’_

Harry put the _Daily Prophet_ on the table in front of him and ran his hand through his jet-black hair. Frowning, he glanced at the newspaper. The slightly nervous face of the new captain of the Quidditch team smiled up at him.

“’ _Desperately looking for a capable Chaser and Seeker’_ ,” Harry muttered and picked the paper back up again.

Should he try it? He had nothing else to do. He had the experience, the necessary nerve and the needed ambition. Looking at the facts, he was perfect for the spot on the team, if there wasn’t one little problem.

“Stop it right now!”

Blinking, Harry looked up and saw Hermione with her arms crossed over her chest standing in front of him.

“But I didn’t do anything.”

“Oh, you sure did! You have begun to start thinking again.”

Puzzled, Harry looked at her. “And what exactly is wrong with that?” he asked slowly, as if he doubted her state of mind.

Hermione rolled her eyes, pushed a chair away from the table and sat down next to Harry.

“I do know how that’s going to end, and you do too. The longer you think about something that would be good for you, like something you enjoy, the faster you come to the ludicrous conclusion that you shouldn’t do it.”

Harry raised his brows.

“You know what I mean. You start to think that you would get to your goal because of your fame and not your skills. Then you start talking yourself into the assumption that everything you have achieved so far is not due to you, but due to your contacts and friends, and this whole thing eventually ends with you feeling worthless and useless.”

Determined, she looked him in the eye. “Am I right?”

Harry blinked and looked away. He had absolutely no desire to discuss his low self-esteem. He knew he had a problem with it. How could it possibly be otherwise, when spending about one and a half decades being told that he was a pure waste of space and not worth the air he breathed? He didn’t need Hermione to figure that out.

It hurt her to see him like that. She knew that the Dursleys had left their marks on him. Although he tried to pretend to be normal and would not believe the things that were drummed into him for his whole childhood. If one knew Harry, one could see how much he suffered under their influence and how much he tried to break away from that, but only managing a little bit, if at all.

Her gaze fell on the newspaper, which Harry was still holding in his hands.

“’ _Britain only with half a team. Will the World Cup have to be cancelled?’_ ” Hermione looked at her sheepish best friend beside her. “Quidditch?”

She smiled as he nodded. “What’s the article about?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat.

“They are looking for players. A Chaser and a Seeker. The try-outs are set for the 23rd,” he muttered into the table.

“So? Are you going?”

Horrified, he stared at Hermione. “Have you lost your freaking mind? Me playing in the national team? Merlin, no.”

He shook his head and stood up hastily to throw the paper into the fireplace.

“I have just read the article and thought about the matches at Hogwarts, that’s all.”

Grinning, she looked up at him as he stared morosely into the flickering flames.

“I think you should go.”

Harry laughed bitterly and turned towards her.

“And what should I do? Ignore all of the people who will keep staring at me? Push all of the people away who will ask me for a photo or autograph? That’s nothing for me, Hermione. I’m doing well here, really!”

“Harry,” she said gently and got up to join him by the fire when he turned back towards the flames, looking depressed.

“Please, Harry. Please don’t do that to yourself. I can see how much you miss playing Quidditch. Oh, come on. It won’t be that bad. Just go there and see what happens. Who knows, maybe they greet you, shake your hand and go back to their own business? You cannot know for certain how they will respond, really. Do yourself a favour and go to the try-outs. I would like to live together with a famous Quidditch player,” she added, grinning, and giggled as Harry began to stammer.

“I dare you.”

Harry looked up and the first thing he saw was her chocolate brown eyes. Their golden threads seemed to glow, as she smiled at him. Her smile grew wider and he saw little wrinkles forming on the bridge of her nose.

He gulped.

“You’re right,” he croaked and cleared his throat. A slight smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. He smelled of aftershave, apple and _Harry_.

“I’m glad,” she whispered in his ear. He shivered.

Shyly, and way too early in Harry’s opinion, they separated.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something else,” she said, her cheeks flushed slightly.

Harry blinked.

“R-Really?” Nervously, he ran his hand through his messy hair, which had already pointed in every direction at the beginning of this conversation.

“Yes, really. You know that I’ve researched a bit during the last few days and weeks.” She immediately had his attention.

“Have you found anything out?” he asked eagerly and hurried to the kitchen table, offered her a seat and sat down.

“Yes, I think so.”

Harry grinned. “But?”

Smiling, she sat down on the chair offered to her and crossed one leg over the other.

“So, as expected, of course, nothing directly useful could be found in these books. I had to read between the lines. Most of them only contained drivel about confused witches and wizards, who believed themselves to be ghosts. The fact that everyone could touch them and they could not go through walls did not prevent them from believing in it. One witch seriously tried to get through the earth’s surface and actually come out at the other side unharmed by going into a full dive with her broomstick. She was put into St. Mungo’s and was their first ever patient in the Psychiatry Department.

“Be that as it may,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “it wasn’t all nonsense and unnecessary paper waste. For example, I’ve read about a wizard, who has reported to have seen his dead lover floating past him, even though she has been dead for about five decades and has never been sighted before that incident. That was in 1109. He was then burned at the stake.”

Puzzled, Harry blinked at her. “This is all very sad, but what has that got to do with my situation?”

“I wasn’t done yet,” Hermione smiled.

“Well, what I wanted to say was that, if I’m right in my assumption, what I think is the case, you are being haunted. There are many cases of apparitions in the last thousand years and those are only the ones that were made public. Most remained an untold secret because the person concerned, if it ended badly, would either end up being burned alive at the stake or being thrown into the river with a weight attached to their legs.

“I have pretty quickly come to the conclusion that it must be a spirit causing all these incidents. The things you see and sometimes hear and the things of which you were dreaming don’t really give me a chance to come to another conclusion.”

“So, you think that I’m being followed by a ghost? All the time?”

Harry gulped. He had already guessed something like this, but to get it confirmed was a whole different thing.

Hermione nodded. “At least that’s my guess. You see shimmers, hear voices, see shadows.… What other explanation is there?”

 _Actually, there isn’t one_ , he thought sourly, glaring at the shadow in the corner. It seemed to tremble. Was the spirit, the apparition or whatever it was nervous? Did it not want to be discovered? A murmur reached his ears and he focused on the shapeless, colourless figure next to the kitchen door. It came closer slowly. The murmur grew louder, but he couldn’t understand the words.

Harry felt a shiver run down his spine. _Just don’t think about it too much_ , he thought and, with a lot of effort, turned his penetrating gaze away from the figure, which stood, hovered - or whatever it did - about two meters away from him.

Hermione watched Harry closely. His gaze was turned away from her and was focused on something behind her. She turned around, but didn’t see anything. With a small smile on her lips, she watched as Harry’s eyes followed something invisible for her. The crinkles on his forehead deepened with every passing second. She was right and he knew it.

“According to the authors,” she said and thus pulled Harry out of his thoughts, “ a soul would only be able to go into the Light if it has finished with everything and accepted its death. This is particularly difficult for people who have been murdered or have had an accident causing them to die, since they did not have the chance to properly deal with the expected death. If these people still have to do something or have something important to them not going according to plan, if they are worried about someone, it’s more likely that they will remain on earth.”

Hermione smiled at Harry, who was staring at her blankly.

“According to Lynhartt Thomen, there are two possibilities. Either they decide to forever stay on earth, like the ghosts of Hogwarts, and therefore get an almost human form, or they are basically ready and willing to move on, but still want to come to terms with someone or something. Were they to choose the second opinion, they would not gain the form that is visible to the living, but would still be able to walk the earth, usually not seen or felt by living people – wizards and Muggles alike. However, there are exceptions.”

Harry groaned exasperated. “Let me guess – I am said exception, am I not?”

Hermione nodded, grinning. “You can see this being, can’t you?”

“Yes, I can,” he muttered, glaring at the blurry figure beside him, which, as it seemed, reached an arm out for him. He flinched.

“Why is it always me?” Harry ran both his hands over his face and buried it in his arms. A warm breeze blew over his shoulder. There was something strangely comforting in that feeling.

“Even for that I have a theory,” Hermione said, leaning more towards Harry.

“Some time ago you’ve told me that all of these, let’s call them, sightings have taken place just after your stay at St. Mungo’s, right?”

Harry lifted his head and looked at her, puzzled. Slowly it dawned on him. “Yes, that’s right….”

Hermione nodded as she could see the wheels in Harry’s brain jump into their right positions.

“The reason why you were in hospital is that you’ve almost died twice. I found you back at Hogwarts in a completely destroyed corridor. Your side was covered in blood and you were barely breathing. The healers said it would not have taken long and you’d have died from blood loss,” she whispered, struggling to keep from crying.

Harry lowered his eyes.

“And in St. Mungo’s.… I’ve heard the healers as they have tried to save you, did you know that? I’ve sat on the floor in the entrance hall and had to watch as over time more and more often the healers came running out of your room and returned with even more colleagues in tow.”

She sniffled and looked at Harry until he raised his eyes again and looked at her.

“You’ve almost died, Harry. You _have actually been_ dead for a short period of time, but they managed to revive you. Your injuries and loss of blood….”

She took a deep breath to calm herself.

“You’ve been dead for a short time and therefore have been in the ‘Realm of Death’, as Lynhartt Thomen calls it. I think that is the reason why you can see this spirit or soul, although no one else can. You had contact with Death and have just nearly escaped. It all makes sense!”

Harry nodded slowly.

He saw the logic in all of this. He understood why she thought that he was suddenly able to see apparently unmet souls – or _a_ soul – that constantly haunted him. _It doesn’t go into the bathroom though_ , he thought, amused, and thanked Merlin that at least in there he got some much needed privacy.

But who should follow him? Sure, he had seen a lot of people dying, mostly because of him, but he couldn’t think of anyone specific who still had some unfinished business with him.

When he expressed these thoughts aloud, Hermione beamed at him.

“What do you know about this soul?”

Harry blinked.

“Um… well, no matter where I go, I see this shadow or soul,” he added quickly as Hermione raised her eyebrows.

“When I wake up, it’s there; when I sit here alone, it’s here; when I feel sad or have a bad day, I can feel warmth deep inside me, as if someone was hugging me or comforting me.”

He frowned.

“I think it’s a woman,” he said lowly, staring at his hands.

“What makes you think that?” Hermione’s smile could be heard clearly.

Harry looked up.

“When we were in the library and I wanted to help you with your research –“

“Do you mean that pitiful attempt when you threw a book all the way across the room?” Frowning, Hermione’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Harry winced.

“Yeah, exactly that,” he muttered sheepishly and smiled shyly. “Sorry about that….”

“It’s okay,” Hermione’s mouth twitched.

“So, when I dropped the book… I heard a giggle. I’m pretty sure that it was a woman’s voice.”

Hermione sat up interested and cocked her head.

“You didn’t tell me that,” she said as she watched Harry looking down at his hands again.

“I didn’t think you would have found it interesting,” he muttered. “And I thought it was me losing my mind….”

“Harry!” Indignant, she eyed the black-haired boy in front of her. “Of course I’m interested in things that may be important for my research.”

“Well, now you know.”

“And that only confirmed my theory,” she added cheerfully. “Have you seen anything? Maybe clothes or a colour? Certain movements?”

Amazed, Harry stared at her.

“Yeah, now that you mention it.… red. I’ve seen a rather transparent deep red, slightly brighter than blood, I think, but not as bright as the sunset…. Do you mean…?” He paused.

Hermione smiled. “I think you know who she is, don’t you?”

“No. No, it can’t be!”

Hermione stood up slowly, cautious, walked over to Harry and knelt beside him. His eyes were wide, his expression changed from panicky to blank, then confused, hopeful and back to panicky again. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder and closed her eyes briefly as Harry flinched away from her.

“It’s possible, Harry. She’s by your side wherever you go, gives you privacy in personal matters, tries to comfort you whenever you wake up from a nightmare or don’t know what to do.… Harry?”

Slowly he raised his eyes. They were blood-shot and unshed tears were glistening in them.

“Do you see her?”

A tear ran down his cheek, leaving a wet trail behind on his reddened skin. He blinked hastily to stop the tears and ran a hand over his eyes.

He summoned all of his courage and slowly raised his eyes. Just a moment ago, the had been standing beside him and had put a hand on his shoulder. And he had flinched away. Shame burned in his cheeks, his gaze drifted over the furniture of the sparsely furnished kitchen. The old wooden chairs, which were neatly lined up at the massive table, the antique wooden cabinet with the china and cutlery, the sink in the corner, still filled with this morning’s cups. His gaze drifted towards the door that led up into the entrance hall – and there she was.

Her red hair wafted in a wind, which existed only for her, her clothes decades old. She hovered a few centimetres above the ground and had – just like himself – wet cheeks caused by tears running over them, but the smile that lit up her face was full of love and affection.

Right in front of him stood his dead mother.

His breath caught in his throat as he tried to get up from the chair. An incredulous expression crept into his emerald green eyes – the same eyes as the woman’s, who hovered in front of him, just a few meters away.

“Mum?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sniffles* I just want to hug Harry and never let go!
> 
> I hope you liked it! 
> 
> Until next time - see ya! :D


	8. We need your help, sweetheart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly forgot about updating! But I didn't! Better late than never!  
> Enjoy reading :)

**We need your help, sweetheart**

“Mum?”

“Hello, sweetheart.”

Harry could not believe his eyes. In front of him stood his mother – his _dead mother._ She hovered before him and smiled at him through her tears. Her clothes were from the seventies – the clothes in which she had died, he suspected. Her red hair was waving slightly in a breeze, which Harry and Hermione did not feel.

He blinked as he felt his knees buckle; his vision blurred and eventually completely faded out.…

*~*HP*~*

“Harry? Harry, can you hear me?”

The first thing he felt was an unbearable headache. He groaned and felt his forehead. Maybe he had a hole in it? At least that would explain the pain he felt at that moment.

“He’s waking up!”

“Harry, dear, can you hear me? Open your eyes, darling.”

He blinked and immediately regretted it. Bright light stung his eyes and gave his head a rather unpleasant twinge. He groaned again.

Slowly, he tried to sit up, only to quickly lie down again, as the whole room around him began to spin. Deflated, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply to reduce the nausea that had taken control of his stomach.

“What happened?” he muttered weakly and blinked tentatively. The ceiling stayed where it belonged; a good sign.

“You’ve become very pale all of a sudden and fainted,” whispered Hermione, whose hand lay on his shoulder reassuringly. “We’ve brought you into your bedroom.”

_We?_

Confused and a little shaky, he straightened up, supporting his weight with one hand on the soft bed behind him, with the other he felt for his glasses on his bed side table.

“Here you go,” his mother said, timidly handing him his glasses.

Harry blinked. His mother? Puzzled, he stared at the slightly transparent form of the red-haired woman right in front of him, as his eyes focused. He swallowed. _Of course!_ Now he remembered. He had spoken to Hermione about a soul that haunted him and had suddenly seen his mother in front of him. Then he must have fainted…

He blushed. He had fainted in front of Hermione and Lily Potter’s eyes? _Oh Merlin, help me._

“How are you, Harry?” Lily’s voice was soft, as if she was afraid that Harry would lose consciousness again. _That’s so embarrassing!_ Her hand twitched towards his forehead as if to feel whether he was alright, but quickly fell back to her side when she noticed that, maybe, Harry wouldn’t approve.

He cleared his throat, embarrassed and pulled his knees to his chest, where he immediately wrapped his arms around them.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, and turned his eyes to the blanket in front of him. The wave pattern shimmered, as a slightly transparent hand propped up on it. He swallowed.

“You’re so red, sweetie…. Are you sure you’re okay? Are you feverish?” Lily watched her son concerned, who became even redder.

“No, I’m fine. Really,” he added, as Lily gave him a sceptical look. “Really, Mum. It’s nothing.”

The smile she gave him took his breath away.

He had called her _Mum_! Her son had called her Mum! Lily’s cheeks flushed with joy and her smile was so wide that she feared to get a cramp in her facial muscles. But she did not care. Harry had called her Mum. He knew who she was and most importantly – he accepted it. He was happy about it even if the grin, which tugged at the corners of his mouth was any indication.

The warmth filling Lily at that moment was breath-taking. Her heart, though it had stopped beating many years ago, felt whole again, the veins in her body seemed to glow, her skin tingled. The air in her lungs felt fresher and cleaner than ever before. Tears of happiness began to gather in her eyes, without actually being there. For the first time since her death, she was happy.

“I think I’ll give you two some alone time,” Hermione said shyly. Squeezing Harry’s hand one last time she walked out of the room, a gentle smile on her face.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to get his jerky breathing under control. Now was not the time for a nervous breakdown. He had the opportunity to get to know his mother. An opportunity he never thought possible, no matter how much he had dreamed about and wished for it.

Ashamed, he lowered his gaze. He didn’t know what to say. What did you say if your dead mother sat next to you? A woman that – let’s be honest – he did not know.

“I’m sorry that I gave you such a fright.”

Harry’s head snapped up in alarm. He stared at the slightly transparent person in front of him.

Lily smiled sadly and shrugged. “Well, you know. All these apparitions and dreams.…” Slowly, she let her mind wander, frowning slightly.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he whispered and reached out to her hesitantly, his hand trembling, only to let it fall to his side shortly after. What was wrong with him? She was dead, a ghost! Ghosts were not really there – physically not at least. They couldn’t be touched.

Lily smiled. “It’s okay,” her voice was soft as she leaned towards him slightly. “You don’t need to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Harry cried out hastily, staring at her with wide eyes.

“Of course not,” she winked at him and pointed to the bed. “May I?”

Harry nodded timidly and moved away a few inches, so that his mother had a little more room to sit on the mattress.

“I have quite a lot to tell you and I will do so, I promise,” she sat down next to him and slowly, so that Harry had enough time to move away, put her hand on his. It felt warm. “But I think it would be better if I merely gave you a summary at first. After all, there is someone who would want to tell you quite a lot as well, as far as I know him.”

She smiled as Harry’s breath caught. “Exactly. You have to know that all of this wasn’t just my idea only. James sure is insane with worry by now…”

Her eyes roamed the room without actually seeing the furniture in it, but something entirely different and far away.

“What do you mean with that?” Confused, Harry’s brows furrowed.

“To fully understand our situation you have to know what we have decided that night so many years ago.” She turned back to her son, who was sitting cross-legged in front of her and hung on her lips, merely blinked every now and then.

“Our greatest wish and goal in life was your safety and happiness. You were everything for us. We have completely changed our lives for you, just so you were safe. And we did so willingly and voluntarily,” she added, smiling, as Harry grimaced.

“You must know, darling, that everything we have taken upon ourselves was done out of our own decision to protect you. We were proud of you. We loved you so much that it was natural for us to do all that and we have no regrets whatsoever. If someone were to ask us now whether we would want to change anything that happened in our short lives, we would both say the same thing – no. We have lived our lives and you were a part of it. We could not have been happier, Harry. Please never forget that.

“None of what happened to us is your fault. We have done this out of our own responsibility and free will, knowing very well how it could end. We wanted to protect what was the most important to us, and if need be, do so with our lives.

“James and I knew what we were getting into. The moment Dumbledore had told us about the prophecy….” She took a shaky breath and clutched Harry’s hand even tighter. “It was a nightmare. We knew there would be some risk, raising a child in the midst of a war, but we wanted to try it. Neither the war, nor the prophecy would stand in our way of achieving our goal. We have promised that to ourselves.

“We wanted you to live a normal and happy childhood. A childhood in a loving environment, with godparents and parents, who would literally praise the ground you would walk on,” laughing, she wiped a lone tear from her pale cheek. “We wanted to give you a happy life, Harry. And even after our death we had not forgotten our wish, believe me.

“When we saw you lying in the rubble, without being able to do anything.…” She sniffed and took a deep breath to calm herself. “Sirius came shortly after Voldemort has vanished. We heard him come into the house. When he came into your room I was so relieved that he has found you. I knew that I could not take care of you myself, could not offer you the happy future your deserved to have, but I also knew that Sirius was able to accomplish just that and would do everything in his might so you would be happy.

“I still remember the day when James made the proposal to make Sirius your godfather. My first reaction was to laugh, I have to admit.”

Harry smiled at her. He could imagine only too well how that scene had taken place. James Potter, playful and yet responsible, father-to-be, proposing the idea to his pregnant wife that his childish best friend should become their future son’s godfather. Harry sniggered. Yes, he could imagine only too well.

“But when I had thought about it for a little while, I had to admit to myself that I could not have made a better choice. And that was confirmed after your birth. Sirius was so sweet and loving to you, it broke my heart. He was the perfect godfather and the one we had chosen to raise and love you if we wouldn’t be able to do so.

“He carried you out of the house and wanted to get you into your new home as Hagrid turned up. I’m sure you know that story, right?”

He nodded.

“Good. That saves me having to tell you everything twice or three times, even,” she added with a laugh, leaning back into the pillows. Harry followed.

“Well, James and I knew that after Sirius’ arrest, things would not go according to plan. Dumbledore knew of Sirius’ innocence, but did nothing about it; however, quite the opposite, actually. We have made sure that in our will it was made clear that you were not, under any circumstances, to be brought to anyone other than those persons selected by us. And believe me, my dear sister was not on that list,” she grumbled bitterly, as Harry made to sit up.

Soothing and somewhat timidly, she ran her fingers through her son’s messy hair. She smirked. “No one would have suspected that the Potter genes were that dominant.” Lovingly, she tried to tame the raven curls. “Hopeless.”

“I have not yet managed it either,” Harry muttered. He slowly closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the unfamiliar feeling.

“No one will ever manage,” she whispered, brushing a wayward strand out of his forehead to trace his scar. Warmth drove through his veins and filled him with such a comfortable feeling that he had to make an effort to keep from moaning.

“We have tried to follow you,” Lily continued, but without stopping to stroke her son’s hair lightly. Harry was grateful for that. “But it didn’t work.”

Confused, Harry opened his eyes and blinked up at his mother. “What do you mean ‘It did not work’? You’re here, aren’t you?”

Lily smiled sadly and nodded, “Yes, that’s true. But hear me out.” She winked at him as he blushed adorably.

“Sorry,” he murmured, closing his eyes again. “Go on.”

“Very well. James had this insane suspicion that it would probably be because we were somehow bound to our place of death through us dying there.”

“Godric’s Hollow.” Harry’s voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat.

“Exactly,” Lily whispered and kissed him lightly in the forehead. “Godric’s Hollow. We still had our magic, so that couldn’t be the cause for us not being able to leave. Therefore that remained the only possibility. During our school days, I had once lent James a book for a paper or something. That book also included some chapters on the ghosts of Hogwarts and their achievement of leaving their place of death.

“It said that a spirit could only move about freely, if he or she channelled magic from another source, sometimes even resulting in the death of that other source… Of course, we didn’t want to kill anyone. Goodness, no. But James correctly realized that we both still had our magic, even after our death and therefore he proposed to donate his magic so I could be by your side.”

Harry blinked. “Does that mean that Dad has been stuck in Godric’s Hollow all those years?” Puzzled, he sat up and looked at his mother.

Lily ran her free hand through her hair – a nervous habit she had adopted while being in James’ company. “We’ve kept in touch for the first few years,” she said, holding her son’s gaze. “We were able to talk to each other. It was as if he was in my head and I in his. As if we had two different sets of thoughts, one set with my voice and the other with James’. But after a few years it became more and more frequent that we were not able to communicate. James had to cut the connection more often, because his magic was not strong enough anymore, not as strong as it used to be… until it eventually broke off completely.”

Slowly Lily sat up and brushed a red strand of hair behind her ear. “The only way to talk to each other was your dreams. James’ magic becomes weaker and weaker and slowly I get the feeling as if I won’t have much time outside of Godric’s Hollow anymore. The urge to return to Godric’s Hollow gets stronger with the minute, but I fear that if I give into that urge, our magic won’t be strong enough to let me leave again. Our connection has suppressed the death bond magic, but while losing its power, the bond gets stronger.

“That is why we need your help, Harry. James is getting weaker and I do not know how long my magic can keep him strong and upright.”

Lily looked desperate. Her eyes darted frantically about her son’s face, searching for an answer to her plea. If he did not want or wasn’t able to help them, she didn’t know what James and her future would look like; if it still existed.…

“Tell me what you want me to do!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go. I hope you liked it! The plot's slowly getting somewhere xD
> 
> Until next time - see ya!


	9. Speculations of the Wizarding Wolrd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> Before you start reading the new chapter, let me thank you for all of those lovely comments! They mean the world to me and I'm really happy that you enjoy this story! :D I love reading what you have to say and it always makes my day better :)
> 
> Now, without further ado: On with the next chapter! Enjoy reading! :D

**Speculations of the Wizarding World**

_‘Our reporter was thrilled when she strolled along the streets of London that day, wondering what she should discuss in her next article, when none other than Harry Potter and Hermione Granger walked by. That is right, dear readers. Harry Potter, our saviour and hero of the wizarding world, and his best friend Hermione Granger walked along the road, side by side, apparently deep in a personal conversation, if one could judge by the colour of Ms Granger’s cheeks. And even more interesting was Mr Potter’s arm that was resting over Ms Granger’s shoulders!_

_So now we from the_ Daily Prophet _ask ourselves: Is there more going on between the two world-saving lovebirds than we thought until recently?_

_During Harry Potter’s fourth year at Hogwarts, one of our reporters wrote about a possible love triangle between the most eligible and hottest wizard in the world Harry Potter, the Bulgarian hunk Viktor Krum and the clever, yet unimposing girl at Harry Potter’s side, Hermione Granger._

_At that time all participants denied any ‘accusations’ and demanded to be left alone. But the witches of Great Britain are now again faced with an important and equally frustrating question: Is Harry Potter single?_

_To this exact question said wizard replied with an adorable blush and an immediate escape right after we asked him who his sweetheart was at the last charity event. Does that reaction mean that he is taken, but doesn’t want to share it with the world? Or can we single women of the wizarding world still hope that Britain’s hottest wizard is still available?_

_Well, to this question us witches want to know the answer. Was this walk just that? – A walk among close friends, who have not had the opportunity to spend a moment of peace with each other for a long time, or did our reporter actually witness a romantic stroll through the streets of London? A walk among young lovers, who do not want to make their love public?_

_We at the_ Daily Prophet _will stay tuned and unravel the mystery of Britain’s most eligible wizard!’_

Harry stared in horror at the newspaper in front of him. What the hell had he just read?

His eyes darted over the heavy parchment as he scanned the article again. Why didn’t the reporters leave him alone for even one day? Throughout his whole life he had had to hold out for their mostly fictional and completely random _fables_ ; year after year, another crazy ‘discovery’ about the life of the famous Harry Potter had made the front page, ninety percent – scratch that – ninety-five percent being false.

Frustrated, Harry groaned. They would never leave him alone. They had never left him alone and would never do so in the future. Why had he thought that with Voldemort’s downfall he would also be forgotten?

“What are you shaking your head for?” asked an amused voice behind him that made him jump.

“Mum!” Startled, he whirled around and hid the _Daily Prophet_ more badly and well behind his back. “W-What are you doing here?”

“Am I not allowed to look after my son?” Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she floated slowly towards him. “What have you got there?” she asked as Harry continued to just stare at her, confused, and slightly panicked.

“Nothing!”

As if stung by a bee, Harry jumped up and grinned at Lily innocently.

“Just the newspaper, nothing more. The articles are full of rubbish. The usual. Nothing important. Well, I’m off to look for Hermione. You don’t happen to know where she is, do you? Oh well, I’ll find her. The house isn’t too big after all; at least not big enough to lose someone in it. See you then.… I’m off,” he laughed sheepishly and ran his hand through his hair nervously. Lily raised a brow. “Until then,” with beet red cheeks, he disappeared from the kitchen, literally running up the stairs.

Lily laughed as she looked after him. Snickering, she shook her head and looked around the kitchen. Harry had left his empty mug on the table. Should she try to clean it with magic? Lily frowned. She had not tried to move something in a very long time, let alone used magic.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. If she only imagined her lifting the cup into the air and clean it with a spell…. It had, after all, also worked with Harry’s glasses, hadn’t it?

Slowly, she reached her hand out for the cup and tried to focus solely on the effect of the spell, the feeling the porcelain would make in her hand, the tingling, which one felt while performing a spell. She could almost fell it – the light pressure of the cold porcelain against her palm, the warm tingling in her veins as the magic flowed through the….

Hesitantly, she opened her eyes and frowned at the dirty tea cup on the wooden kitchen table. _Memories,_ she thought disappointedly and stretched her hand out to pick up the mug. It went right through it. _Nothing but memories._

*~*HP*~*

Rather reluctantly, Harry opened the door to the library and peeked inside. Hermione sat, as suspected, at the old wooden desk with a book in front of her. When she heard the door open, she turned around.

“Harry.” Smiling, she put the quill aside and stood up. “Come on in.”

“Have you read the _Daily Prophet_ yet?” Harry tried with all his might to prevent his blood from flowing into his cheeks –without much success. He cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly at her.

Hermione blinked. “No, I haven’t. Why do you ask? What does it say?”

She frowned slightly as she watched Harry wring his hands and nervously step from one foot to the other, without seeming to notice his behaviour. Smirking, her gaze moved from the black-haired wizard to the pile of parchment, which he was clutching in his hands and back again. He got redder with the second.

“Nothing. Nothing important anyway,” he folded his hands behind his back and nodded. “Just rubbish, really. Just the usual crap.”

“If there’s nothing important in it, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind me reading it, would you?” Amused, she raised her eyebrows as Harry began to stutter.

“You don’t need to read it. I mean, it’s all nonsense anyway. You know the _Daily Prophet_. With Skeeter gone, the articles didn’t exactly get better or true. As lurid as always. If there was something of importance… hey!”

Hermione had leapt at him and tried to reach the newspaper behind Harry’s back, but he was holding onto it as if it was a lifeline.

“Stop it. Let go!”

“Not going to happen!”

Harry tried to shake off Hermione, who had now resorted to unfair means and began to tickle him in earnest.

“Stop that!” he yelled, laughing and squirmed frantically in her arms. “Stop it!”

“Never!” Hermione giggled as Harry tried to push her away with his elbow, without removing his hands from his back.

Harry, whose eyes were squeezed shut, snickered as her hands let go of his waist. _Ha! Saved_ , he thought triumphantly and slowly opened his eyes…

… and stared into the most beautiful brown he had ever seen.

Hermione stood mere twenty inches at most away from him, her breathing was erratic, her eyes opened wide, her pupils slightly dilated. He gulped. He had not been that close to her since…. he blushed. Since that one incident with Ginny. _God_ , that had been embarrassing.

He swallowed, Hermione did the same. Trembling, he tried to detach his hands from the newspaper, to somehow loosen his vice-like grip he had on the parchment, so demanding was the desire to wrap his arms around her, to hold her, to feel her body against his, her warmth in his arms, her soft lips on….

Horrified, he shook his head and backed away hastily. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair. That just now had not been what he thought it had been, had it? He blinked at Hermione. Her eyes were wide with shock, her flawless skin over her delicate cheekbones slightly reddened, tinging them into a beautiful blush. _Pull yourself together, Harry! This is Hermione, who you have just thought those things about, damn it!_

His heart pounded against his chest as if it would jump out of his rib cage at any moment. A warm tingling sensation flowed through his veins, followed by such an intense warmth that he had last felt… the last time he had felt it was when he had kissed Ginny in the Gryffindor Common Room. _Oh, God, no!_ _No!_ No, that couldn’t be. Hermione was like a sister to him. Under no circumstances could he actually have feelings for his sister – romantic feelings for his family? No! No, that wasn’t possible… right?

Discouraged, he looked at his _friend_ , who muttered frantically to herself. Her cheeks got redder and redder with every word.

He cleared his throat. With a soft squeak, Hermione spun around and stared at him with wide eyes. The _Daily Prophet_ lay forgotten on the floor between them.

“I… um… I actually had planned to ask you something,” he muttered, embarrassed, and pushed his unruly hair out of his eyes again. He bit back a groan as it jumped back against his glasses.

“W-What?” Hermione shook her head slightly to dispel the stream of thought that shot through her mind. Now was not the right time to worry about her relation-… um… _friend_ ship with Harry.

“I only just thought of something.” With effort he raised his eyes and looked into her brown eyes. He swallowed. _Stay focused, Harry._

“This morning when I woke up… well, it could be that I only imagined it, but it sounded as if you could see Mum. You know,” he added, as Hermione raised her brows, seemingly confused, “you said ‘I’ll give you two some alone time’ or something like that. I was just wondering if… you know.…”

Hermione sighed, turned around and slowly sat back down. Her heartbeat began to calm down; yet she felt as if she had just participated in a particularly exhausting marathon.

She brushed a curly brown strand of hair behind her ear and raised her eyes. Harry’s heart leapt, as the brown of her eyes stared into the green of his. He couldn’t quite identify the expression in them.

“I can guess where she is.” Hermione took a deep breath and sat up straighter. “To be honest, I think I know what you’ve always seen in the beginning. You said that some kind of apparition or something shiny followed you around, right? Well, I know where your mother is at the moment, because I also see something like that when she’s in the room.”

Harry blinked at her in surprise. “So you can see her?”

“No, at least not directly,” she smiled at him patiently when he grabbed a chair that stood at the wall, dragged it over to the desk and sat down next to her, without ever taking his eyes off her.

“I don’t know whether it is her aura or some kind of corporal part of her, but there is something I can see. The outlines are blurred and the colours get weaker whenever she is there. And since you’ve always looked in that direction whenever you have spoken to her, I figured I’m not actually losing my mind, but can really – in some way – see where your mum is.”

Harry slowly raised his eyebrows as he processed what had been said. So Hermione could see where his mother was. Sure, she didn’t see what he saw, but it was more than he had dared to hope for.

Just as he took a deep breath to tell her how amazing that was, he was interrupted by a voice coming from the kitchen.

“Harry? Are you at home, dear?”

Puzzled, Harry blinked owlishly at Hermione. She shrugged and made her way, closely followed by Harry, to the kitchen.

Molly Weasley stood in the room, a smile on her face, her old tattered handbag lay on the kitchen table. She beamed as she saw the two of them entered the room.

“Hello, you two,” she rushed over to the confused friends and pulled both of them into a motherly embrace. “How are you? I haven’t heard from you for such a long time! It’s really a shame just how Ginny and Ron are behaving!”

Harry looked over Mrs Weasley’s shoulder to his mother, who stood next to the fireplace, a sad smile on her face. Harry smiled back shakily.

How much he wanted to be able to hug his mum… but he feared that he would never be able to do so. He had lived his life so far without being able to remember one single moment in which his mother had embraced him. Of course, he was sure that there had indeed been plenty of those moments, but not being able to remember didn’t mean it was less painful, especially now that it was so clear what he had been missing – and still was.

Since he had started his first year at Hogwarts, he had been hugged more often. Not regularly and not even very often, but there had still been some people in his life that had wanted to embrace him. But the feeling of being cradled in his parents’ arms he did not know. The closest he had ever come to knowing the feeling was being held by his godfather.

“What are you doing here, Mrs Weasley?” Harry asked politely, as he wiggled his way out of the embrace. He was not comfortable with the idea of his former best friend’s mother hugging him lovingly, when his own mother was in the very same room, obviously hurt by the fact that it was Mrs Weasley who pulled her son into her arms and not her.

Mrs Weasley smiled at him lovingly and also wrapped her arms around Hermione. “I just wanted to come by to pay you a visit since I haven’t seen you a lot lately.”

Hermione laughed in embarrassment. “Sorry, Mrs Weasley.”

“Oh, fiddlesticks! You don’t need to apologize. It’s not your fault, after all.” She shook her head and sighed disappointedly. “I assume that my two youngest have not gotten in touch with you?”

She huffed as the two younger wizards nodded. “I cannot believe it. This outrageous behaviour! I don’t know where they learned it from. Certainly not from me! One should think that those two are old enough to look beyond their own expectations and desires from time to time and push aside their unanswered feelings for the sake of your friendship. But apparently the majority applies only when it comes to the law.”

Sighing loudly, she sat down on a chair at the kitchen table and covered her eyes with her hand to calm down. Hermione and Harry exchange a look.

“Ronald came over today,” murmured Mrs Weasley and slowly let her hand drop to her lap, to watch their reactions.

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. Her eyes were cold. Harry swallowed. This side of her rarely made an appearance and he was thankful for it – it was just scary.

“He literally begged me to go and talk to you again to change your mind, but I immediately told him,” she added hastily as Hermione’s eyes flashed irritated, “that I am not the one who has to talk to you. I’m on your side, Hermione, dear. How Ron has acted is, to be honest, really lousy and he behaved like a complete jerk.”

Harry’s jaw dropped to the ground. Astonished, he stared at Mrs Weasley, the very same woman who always seemed to be so calm and in control of herself. The only time he saw her now red and slightly blotchy face was when she had yelled at the twins. Harry blinked. Fred and George…. No, he would not think about Fred and what had become of George now!

“Well, it’s true. I taught my children to bring love and respect into a relationship and not obsession and aggressiveness! Or in Ginny’s case stalker qualities and ignorance. She hasn’t been here yet either, has she?”

Harry shook his head. “Not after I kicked her out as she informed me about her opinion… rather rudely,” he concluded with a glance at Hermione, whose cheeks had an adorable pink colour.

Lily’s eyes flashed. Oh, she remembered that moment only too well. She had been so happy for them, that they had finally found each other and Harry would get a much deserved chance at a happy life – James had said from the beginning that Ginny would not be the right one for their son and she had completely agreed with him. But everyone had temporary interests and their teenage son was no exception. They couldn’t hold it against him. But as said witch had marched down the hall and had begun insulting Hermione and had been mocking her in earnest, Lily’s opinion of her had fallen into a bottomless pit, without even the slightest chance of ever being able to crawl back out of it.

Harry bit back a smile when he saw his mother’s eyes darken and narrow. Warmth shot through his body when he realized once again that he was no longer alone.

“Typical,” Mrs Weasley snorted and abruptly yanked Harry out of his thoughts. His head whipped around, just in time to see the ginger witch advance on him and make a move to hug him again.

“I fear I have to go, my dears. I have a handful of lazy people at home who want to have their meal cooked by a loving mother.”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation, embraced Hermione one last time and walked over to the fireplace, where she disappeared in the bright green flames.

Blinking, Hermione stared into the flames that were back to their normal, warm orange-red. “Well, that was a short visit,” she muttered.

Harry could only agree with her.

“Say, aren’t the try-outs for the national team tomorrow?” She grinned as Harry’s eyes widened drastically as he stared at her.

“Oh, God, I’ve completely forgotten about that!”

“Well, then you better see to it that you’ll remember until tomorrow.” Smirking, she strolled towards the stairs that led to the ground floor, probably on her way back to the library.

As she arrived at the door to the staircase, she turned around one last time, a radiant grin on her face. “After all, I want to live together with a world famous Quidditch player, or have you forgotten already?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs* reporters, ay? :/ But I just love how cute Harry and Hermione are :D
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter!
> 
> Until next time - see ya!


	10. Trapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, why am I so busy?! I'm sorry this chapter is a bit late... I won't update this story next week because of Christmas and I don't plan on going anywhere near my laptop on Christmas. *mumbles* I'll probably spend my time reading the screenplay book of Fantastic Beasts *clears throat* Don't tell my aunt I said that! I really want that book! 
> 
> Enjoy this chapter!

**Trapped**

Yawning loudly, he sat up and scratched his chin thoughtfully. His magic was almost exhausted and he spent most of his time sleeping. At first, he had thought that ghosts could not sleep and maybe it was true and James only fell into a deep trance during those times, but he didn't care. With each passing day, it got more and more exhausting to keep Lily in London or wherever she might be.

He had not left this place for nearly two decades now. During his years at Hogwarts he had once said that he would never move out of Godric's Hollow, yet he hadn't meant it quite as literal.

Groaning, he sat up and looked around. The ground of the cemetery could barely be seen through the thick fog, but the tombstones could easily be identified; some more so than others. His was one of those that were clearly visible on the piece of earth, under which his lifeless body was buried. He sighed as he read his name that had been engraved into the marble.

_Here lies_

_James Charlus Potter_

_Born_

_27 March 1960_

_Died_

_31 October 1981_

_The last enemy defeated is Death._

His brows furrowed as he read Lily's name right next to his. A heavy weight he felt every time he thought of her spread through his gut. Frustrated, he took a deep breath. At the very beginning, the thought of Lily had managed to calm him down, had managed to reassure him that they had done the right thing – that Lily was with Harry and that through her he would know how both of them were doing, what they were doing or what the Dursleys did.

James snarled and bared his teeth – _the Dursleys_. Oh, what he wouldn't give to be able to talk to them just once. To be able to give them a piece of his mind and watch as they trembled with fear when he whipped out his wand and wondered about what curse would suit them best, all the while grinning madly. All those years they had mistreated Harry and during which neither James nor Lily had been able to do anything had left their mark.

He had rarely felt such a strong disgust – if one ignored Voldemort. He had thought only Snivellus could cause such a reaction from him, but it seemed as if he was wrong about that. His sister and brother in law were probably worse than the greasy black haired wizard. Snivvy had at least omitted his frustrations on people who had a – albeit small – chance to defend themselves, but the Dursleys? James laughed bitterly. _No. They took their frustrations out on an innocent child that didn't even know why they hated him and had never wished for more than being loved and accepted._

But for about two years – or was it three? He couldn't remember – he had had no contact with them. He was almost mad with worry.

Frustrated, he tore at his hair.

Some time ago, just as he had felt his connection with Lily – and thus Harry – collapse, he had been on the verge of just forgetting it all and giving up, concentrating with all his might on getting out of the village, to leave his grave and home behind and look for his family himself. He had known deep inside that he would never even hurt a fly, but at that moment he had not really cared all that much. If he needed magical energy to get out of there, he would get some – no matter its origin. The only thing that mattered was he knew where his family was and how they were doing.

He had to know how his family was and whether his magic was still sufficient to keep Lily at Harry's side. The part of his brain and mind that was still able to think logically told him that if he would be too weak, Lily would have been at his side by now. The other more dominant part did not listen to the logical part and decided to scream its fears and anxieties like there was no tomorrow. He had to act!

Just when he had settled down on top of his grave to think about a plan, he had been interrupted by a sob. A painful and yet insanely happy second long he had thought that his magic had been too weak and Lily had been pulled back to Godric's Hollow again, unable to withstand and fight the bond magic, but when he had opened his eyes, it had become clear pretty quickly that that had not been the case.

_Something big and heavy tackled him to the ground. Tears were dripping down on his face, wetting his skin and a mixture of sobs and laughter reached his ears._

_Dazed, he looked up into the light grey eyes that were glistening with unshed tears, not able to decide whether to cry even more or laugh out loudly._

" _What the.…" With huge effort James managed to sit up and push the big heavy something off of himself._

" _Prongsie! I didn't think I'd ever see you again! Looking good, man!"_

_Flabbergasted, James blinked at the figure next to him. It was both blurry and in focus…. He quickly straightened his glasses. Long black hair, pale grey eyes and a grin that he would never forget took his breath away._

_"Sirius?"_

_The beaming, who sat in front of him reminded him of his best friend, but the Sirius who he knew radiated joy and frivolity, not sadness and exhaustion. The Sirius who he knew had shiny, healthy hair that he adored and cared for like anything else, not lacklustre strands hanging into his drawn, exhausted face, tickling his jaw line and bridge of his nose. He swallowed. This man was another Sirius; a Sirius who had survived Azkaban – and it broke his heart to see him like that._

" _W-What are you doing here?" asked James the still grinning godfather of his son. "Are you… No. No, it can't be. Please tell me you're not.…"_

_Sirius – dead? No! Lily had told him how important Sirius had become for Harry. Sirius had done everything in his might to be there for his godson and Harry had pinned so much faith and hope on him like he had never before in anyone. James knew that the Weasleys always looked after Harry when they were able to, but Harry kept seeing them as his best friend's parents. They were not his family. Thanks to Sirius he had finally learned what it felt like to have a family – albeit quite a small one. He couldn't be dead! Harry needed him! This simply couldn't be true!_

_Sirius looked at him with a sad smile and put a hand on his shoulder. Before he could say something reassuring, James interrupted him. "How did it happen?"_

_Sirius lowered his eyes, his hand was still clutching James' shoulder. "I assume you still remember that prophecy, right?"_

_James' expression darkened. Sirius nodded._

" _Last year Voldemort came back."_

_James paled. Yes, that he could remember as well. The joy of seeing Harry again had been overshadowed by the fear for his son's life. The look Harry had given him.… James closed his eyes and shook his head hastily._

" _So Harry was right after all," James looked up. Sirius stared at him with wide eyes._

_"He told me what happened at the cemetery, you know? He said his and Voldemort's wand connected somehow and then you and Lily appeared."_

_James' hands began to tremble._

"Priori Incantatem _Dumbledore called it. You were there with him, weren't you?"_

_James nodded. He felt dizzy. He felt his magic rebel; that he was quite emotional at the moment didn't exactly help with that. He needed rest and quickly. Groaning, he lowered himself down on the cold ground and leaned back against his tomb stone. How long would he be able to stand being trapped in this village he had learned to strongly dislike?_

_Sirius looked at him worriedly. "James, what's wrong?" He knelt down next to his dead best friend and looked into his hazel eyes that smiled at him tiredly._

" _I'm just a little tired. Everything's alright," he mumbled and sighed as he closed his eyes. They began to throb._

" _How is Harry?" James' voice was soft. "Lily said you met him during his third year?"_

" _He's great," he could hear the unmistakable grin he was sure lit up Sirius' face at the moment clearly. James smiled. "He is the perfect mix of you and Lily. He has Lily's temper and brilliancy," James chuckled, "and your appearance and sense of humour. He is perfect."_

_Sirius flopped down on the cold grave next to James and took a deep breath._

" _That makes me happy," James muttered. He tried to keep the jealousy out of his voice and under control. Sirius had known his son, quite unlike him, his father. James swallowed. He wouldn't get emotional now! Not, when he had so many questions for Sirius. He had had sixteen years to cope with the pain and he had thought he could deal with it by now, but…._

" _But how he is I'm not so sure, to be honest," Sirius sighed and stared up at the stars that were scattered all across the clear night sky. "The Order had found out that Voldemort was after something; we thought it was a weapon. As it turned out he wanted the prophecy. Dumbledore thought he only knew half of it, which seemed to be true, seeing that he wanted to get it out of the Ministry to find a way to off Harry."_

_James groaned softly._

" _Yeah…. Well, we wanted to beat him to it, but as we arrived the hall with all of the prophecies in it was completely destroyed. Harry and his friend had arrived before we did and had been herded all the way to that creepy room with the veil. Death Eaters, of course," he added begrudgingly._

_Abruptly, James sat up, his fatigue forgotten, and stared at Sirius, who was still watching the stars with a dark look on his face. "I beg your pardon?"_

_Sirius smiled sadly. "Harry and the others had given them a decent fight; that had been more than obvious. I mean, they had nearly flattened the entire Department of Mysteries, but the fact that everywhere you looked had either unconscious Death Eaters littered around the place or gits who couldn't decide whether to be an infant or a grown man was quite impressive and somewhat scary."_

_James couldn't do anything but stare at him, clearly dazed and somewhat resigned._

_Sirius grinned. "You can be really proud of your boy, Jamsie. That guy can put up one hell of a fight! Anyway, when he got there, we immediately started to collect the kids and knock out as many bad guys as we could. All went well until I ran into my insane cousin. Oh, how much I hate that bitch! We started duelling and Harry kept my back. Then she got me… And I saw her."_

_Sirius smiled slightly as he looked over to James, who was still staring at him, his mouth wide open. He cleared his throat. "Who did you see? Did something happen to Harry?"_

" _No, nothing happened to Harry. At least nothing I would be too worried about," Sirius said as he crawled over the grave and sat down directly in front of James to look him straight in the eye. "I saw Lily. She stood mere two meters away from Harry as I fell through the veil. She looked horrified, but still as beautiful as I remember. She's alright, your son's alright… she doesn't even let him go into the Department of Mysteries without letting him out of her sight."_

 _James closed his eyes and exhaled shakily._ Thank Merlin _, he thought desperately as he felt warm hands pull him into a tight embrace. A sob, followed by several dry tears…. He couldn't do this anymore. He was so relieved, so happy that they were fine and yet so sad and absolutely terrified that it tore him up inside._

Sighing, he sat up and stretched. If she had been with him back then, she was there with him today as well. Last year Harry had come to Godric's Hollow, accompanied by a friend, to visit his and Lily's graves. He had been with them the whole time, wishing for nothing more than for his hands to not go straight through his desperate son, making it impossible for him to provide any sort of comfort. But he had not seen Lily. He didn't worry about it though. The bonding magic that tied her to Godric's Hollow wouldn't have been possible to break a second time if Lily had set a foot on the village's ground. He did not have the power to get her out of there again; so much he knew.

He had followed them through the snowy streets, to the statue in the middle of the village's centre, to their former home and eventually to Berty's house. But just like Lily had to make the painful experience, he had had to accept the frustrating fact that his screams, kicks, cries and yells remained unanswered. They had not heard him and he had not been able to do anything to prevent Voldemort from hurting them. Just like back then….

James breathed in the night air and imagined how it had felt to fill his lungs with fresh, cool air. A grim smile crept onto his flawless features. Since that horrible night so many years ago he had not been in his house anymore. The short visit at Harry's side did not count. He had only had eyes for his son. It was about time to pay the ramshackle hut they had once proudly called 'home' a visit….

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Hope you liked it! A bit of James action... We all need James Potter, now do we not? I love him!
> 
> I wish all of you who celebrate it a lovely Christmas! 
> 
> Until next time - see ya :D


	11. Old and New Rivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE! Enjoy the new chapter :D

**Old and New Rivals**

Harry took a deep breath as he saw the crowds of wizards and witches, who were standing outside the entrance of the stadium. He doubted that they were all here because of the free spots on the team. He rolled his eyes as a flock of reporters scurried by his hiding place without throwing him a glance, obviously not seeing him.

He congratulated himself to have come up with the idea to, first of all, scout the situation. Securely hidden in the shadows between a pair of trees that stood along the way that led to the stadium, he watched as the Aurors, as described in the _Daily Prophet_ , checked everyone who wanted to get onto the pitch and participate in the try-outs. Wands were checked and registered, memories checked and made sure no other magical items were being smuggled inside and if that was indeed the case, they were confiscated before even getting into the proximity of the Quidditch pitch.

The crowd that was separated into several long queues in front of the Aurors chattered excitedly. Some had brooms with them, some were even wearing workout clothes – both Muggle and magical. Merely only a few really looked like they were planning on actually participating in the try-outs. Most were armed to the teeth with cameras; one witch had put a levitation spell on her camera to stop the lens from dragging over the ground.

Harry sighed and tried to summon his courage. He knew what would await him. He had already known when he had read the article in the newspaper and he had also known this had all been a very bad idea. Sure, he missed Quidditch, but were all these cameras, Quick-Quotes Quills and excited people really worth it?

 _Yes_ , said a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Hermione. He scowled. _And now get yourself together and get out there!_ Harry rolled his eyes and gave himself a start – albeit rather reluctantly. Whether outside or inside his head, Hermione was right. She was always right. The time had come that he could and would do thing he wanted to do – for the first time in his life.

He took one last deep breath of the pleasantly fresh air, closed his eyes and stepped from the shadows. The effect was immediate. The woman with the levitation spell turned and caught a glimpse of him as he reluctantly headed for the queues of witches and wizards, a broom over his shoulder and in training attire. She stared at him, all the while smacking her friend, who was standing beside her, painfully against her head. She then spun around indignantly to tell her off and give her a decent piece of her mind when her eyes found Harry and she did the only logical thing that came to her mind; she gave a shrill shriek and fainted.

Harry stood rooted on the spot and worriedly eyed the unconscious witch, who lay at the feet of her friend, who didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“Harry Potter! It is Harry Potter!” shrieked a woman with brown, curly hair and pointed to a befuddled Harry, who went through all possible means of immediate escape in his head at a lightning speed.

 _Maybe it hasn’t been such a good idea to appear in public_ , he thought neutrally, as he watched as if in slow motion how the masses tumbled out of the queues and stormed in his direction. _Oh Merlin._

*~*HP*~*

Groaning, Harry ran his hand through his hair and eyed the screaming crowd of women behind the barrier sceptically.

The Aurors had thrown themselves in front of him at the last second as the women had been rushing towards him. Some had received bruises and others had been kicked in the stomach in the fray, but worse incidents hadn’t happened – thank goodness. The witches had screamed his name like crazy, thrusted pieces of parchment, t-shirts and…underwear – Harry blushed deep crimson just because of the mere thought – in his face and had begged him to give them an autograph.

He had vowed to never hand out autographs like some weird copy of Gilderoy Lockard, but hadn’t been able to think of an alternative way to get out of that mess.

With a cramp in his hand and slightly dishevelled hair due to the numerous desperate attempts of some women to hug or even kiss him, he had stumbled onto the pitch about three-quarters of an hour later.

If this whole situation had not been so disturbing, he would have laughed.

“Well, who do we have here?” asked a haughty voice behind Harry spitefully.

As he turned, he saw none other than Draco Malfoy coming towards him, a nasty smirk on his face. Harry sighed. That was the last straw.

“Malfoy,” he nodded politely to his former school nemesis and turned to join the others, waiting for his turn.

“The one and only.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “What do you want, Malfoy?” he asked, annoyed. He had neither the time, nor the nerve to talk with the blond wizard who, as Harry noticed, was also wearing training attire; he held his broom securely in one hand.

“Probably the same as you, I suppose.”

Harry eyed him curiously. He looked good – better than the last time he had seen him, that is; amidst the sentencing gazes of the Wizengamot. His hair was shorter than before and fell into his face ever to slightly. His grey eyes did not have the same contemptuous look to them as usual; they were gentle, though that was hardly noticeable. His cocky expression had not changed in the slightest.

He took a deep breath to stay calm. Malfoy had always annoyed him. However, in situations like this, when he had to concentrate it was even more annoying.

The mocking smirk, which he saw from the corner of his eye, distracted him. His mind had to stay on the goal! _If Malfoy got a spot on the team, this whole let’s-annoy-the-heck-out-of-Harry-Potter-thingy would never end._

*~*HP*~*

Grinning, Harry got off his broom and walked over to the captain, who waved at him cheerfully. Stinicle patted him on the back, beaming.

“Well done, Potter. Really good. Although I’m not supposed to say anything specific about my choice as of yet,” he muttered, as he looked around inconspicuously, “but I’m pretty sure that was one of the best flights I’ve seen today.”

Harry laughed. “I’ll just wait for the official team list. Then I’ll know.”

Stinicle grinned and nodded. “Sounds like a good plan! I will make the final decision as soon as possible,” he said as a commotion broke out behind him. Sighing, he turned and walked over to the chasers, who were in the middle of a rather heated discussion about who would make the team. “We’ll hear from each other, Potter,” he called over his shoulder and waved at him cheerfully.

*~*

With a flick of his wand, he opened the door of number twelve Grimmault Place. He wanted nothing more than to let himself fall into a chair by the fireplace and just relax, maybe let Kreacher bring him tea and biscuits and forget all about the stress of the morning.

As the door swung open and he stepped into the hallway, groaning from all the excitement of the morning and leaned his broomstick next to the coat rack, he saw his mother float through the door leading to the kitchen out of the corner of his eye. He looked up into her worried and slightly disgruntled face.

He frowned.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, confused, and took a few steps towards her, until he stood directly in front of her. He could see the slight worry lines on her forehead and around her eyes and mouth. Her lips were pressed together into a tight, disapproving line. Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Ron is here,” she said, pushing her fiery red hair out of her face impatiently.

Harry blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Lily sighed, glanced behind her to check whether the door was closed and smiled at her son apologetically.

“He was suddenly standing at the door. Hermione has mentioned some time ago that you have extended the wards and included him and Ginny in them. Anyway, that’s what Molly told her. But I’m assuming that’s true, right?” She saw the amused glint in Harry’s eyes and smiled.

“Just like I thought. Like father, like son.” She laughed as Harry blushed.

“Well, be that as it may…. He seemed to just want to be safe and make sure he had the element of surprise, because as Hermione opened the door to see who wanted to speak to you, he kicked in the door and came inside.” She huffed in annoyance. “He has not even waited to be invited in.”

Harry shook his head contemptuously. “He knows that Hermione would not let him get inside, not after what he… Oh my God!” he gasped and whirled around, facing his mother, who looked at him with wide eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, gently putting a hand on his arm.

Warmth flowed into Harry’s body and mixed with the adrenaline that was pumping through his veins.

 “Hermione cannot be left alone in a room with Ron! I’ll explain everything later, but we have to hurry,” he shouted, ran right through his mother, ignored her indignant outcry and raced down the stairs to the kitchen, from which he could clearly hear the aggravated voices of two people.

“Please, Hermione! Please, I’m sorry! I know I behaved terribly, but I promise to make it up to you! It will not happen again. I promise. Please, give me another chance!”

Ron had cornered Hermione and now stood directly in front of her. Her back was pressed against the wall next to the fireplace, her eyes wide with fear and trembling all over. Ron was gesturing wildly and begged Hermione to forgive him, who was staring at his hands, terrified, and flinched every time they came near her. Ron was oblivious to her behaviour.

“Please, Hermione. Come back to me. I am nothing without you. I promise to change. Really! You don’t need to hide at Potter’s. He isn’t good for us. Can’t you see it? He wanted to bring us apart! He had already tried to do so during our school years. It just wasn’t clear to me until he asked you to leave me in the forest. Don’t you get it? He just wanted you so I wouldn’t get you! He feels nothing for you. He cannot feel. Not after the childhood he had. He doesn’t care how you feel, but I do. I love you, Hermione! I need you and I know you need me too!”

Hermione flinched and whimpered softly as Ron grabbed her arm and shook it slightly. “You belong to me, Hermione. You know that.”

Both jumped violently as the kitchen door was kicked open and slammed full force into the wall. Ron whirled around and stared into the furious face of his former best friend.

“ _You!_ ” hissed the red-haired wizard hatefully and pulled the terrified Hermione behind him. She struggled, but his grip was too tight. “What do you want?”

“Let go of Hermione,” Harry hissed with a barely controlled voice. His hands, which he had clenched into fists, trembled.

“She’s not yours!” Ron yelled and tightened his grip on Hermione’s arm, whose whimpering got more prominent. Ron’s grip hurt and choked her arm off.

“She doesn’t belong to anyone and now let her go,” Harry growled and, out of the corner of his eye, saw his mother slip through the door and slap her hands over her mouth, horrified.

“Oh my God,” she whispered and floated towards them, sure in the knowledge that Ron would not see her. Hermione’s eyes darted from Harry, who slowly reached for his wand to the shimmer that came nearer and nearer, gliding towards them just as slowly.

 _Lily_ , she thought with relief and watched as the mother of her crush floated towards her, coming to a halt directly next to her. She smiled shakily and stifled a sob, as Ron also took out his wand, without loosening his vice-like grip on her arm.

But Harry was faster. With practised speed and precision, he pointed his wand at his first and former best friend and hit him with such a strong stunning spell that Ron flew through the air, taking Hermione with him, collided with the mantel of the fireplace and collapsed on the floor.

“ _Hermione!_ ” Harry ran to the fireplace and pulled the unconscious Ron off of the witch.

“Hermione,” he whispered, putting his hand against her wet, pale cheek.

“Oh God, no!” Her eyes were closed and a bruise was starting to form on her upper arm; an exact shape of Ron’s fingers.

“Please!” Shakily, he breathed in and felt for a pulse. He cried out with relief when he found one.

Lily took a shaky breath and stared at her son, who desperately tried to stop his tears and wake Hermione. He stroked her cheek affectionately, wiped them softly with his sleeve to dry her damp skin and gently pushed her bushy brown hair out of her forehead and of her shoulders. Again and again he checked her pulse and sniffled loudly when he found one.

“Come on, wake up. Please, Hermione, wake up. Don’t do this to me. Wake up, honey, wake up.” Lily smiled sadly as Harry gently kissed Hermione on her cheek.

“Wake up,” he whispered over and over again.

It was obvious what those two felt for each other. How she looked at him when he was in the room, how he smiled as soon as she entered the room… How he begged her not to leave him….

Lily smiled sadly. All of this was so painfully familiar to her. She could still remember that one Halloween very well – the feeling when she had heard James and Voldemort fight on the bottom floor, the constant fear of not seeing her husband again and to not be able to protect her son, the massive, incredibly strong grief and horror as she saw the bright green light through the space between the door and the ground, followed by the dull thud of James’ lifeless body hitting the ground and finally the panicked determination to do anything to make sure her son survived.

To be able to feel those feelings was painful and Lily had often thought that the negative aspects outweighed the good ones… But when she had watched Harry during his years at Hogwarts, as he had tried to keep everything and everyone away from him, not let anything get close emotionally, that could at some point cause further pain.… No. Those feelings one felt for friends and family were stronger than the pain that came when losing them. All of the memories stayed with one and gave one strength and confidence.

But when she saw her son like this in front of her, so desperate as he whispered Hermione’s name again and again, kissed her forehead, her cheek, her neck, broke her heart. Her son had found his happiness, but didn’t either – for whatever reason – admit it to himself or did not know what these feelings meant. Lily growled as she thought about the reason of his ignorance – _the Dursleys._ Someday, she vowed just like all those years ago, she and James would march up to her dear sister and make her pay!

A soft groan made Harry inhale sharply, as he stroked over Hermione’s cheek over and over again. Lily turned around and saw the brown-haired witch stir.

“Hermione!” Harry exclaimed and pushed her gently back to the ground as she tried to sit up.

“What happened?” she mumbled weakly and gently felt her forehead with a slightly trembling hand. She winced as a sharp pain shot through her skull.

“Ron happened,” Harry murmured embarrassed and eyes the still unconscious redheaded figure lying a few metres away from them.

“I have overdone the curse, it seems.” Embarrassed, he ran his hand through his hair and hurriedly pushed Hermione back to the ground as she frantically tried to do her best in fleeing from the room.

“Calm down, ’Mione. Everything’s alright. You need to rest. You’ve suffered quite a blow to the head.”

“What about Ron? Where is he?” she whispered, frightened, her eyes darting from Harry’s face across the room and zoned in on her former boyfriend.

“Oh my God!” Horrified, she put her hands over her mouth and stared at the red-haired wizard.

“Don’t worry. He won’t move anytime soon,” Harry grumbled, picked up his wand from the spot it had landed on a few minutes ago and waved it over Hermione in one fluid motion, who squealed as she rose into the air.

“I can walk on my own, Harry,” she said shakily, trying to straighten while floating in the air, but without much success. Her eyes nervously darted to the unconscious wizard on the ground.

“No way. You rest! I caused all of this, so it’s my job to fix it,” he said firmly and, having his wand raised, walked towards the door, Hermione floating after him, still protesting meekly.

“You’ll call me if he wakes up unexpectedly?” Harry shot his mother a pleading look. She smiled reassuringly and nodded slightly.

Once in Hermione’s bedroom, Harry gently put her down on her soft bed and tugged her in. With another flick of his wand, her clothes were transfigured into her pyjamas. Smiling, Hermione rolled her eyes as she let Harry fuss over her, without complaining.

“You just gave me quite a fright, you know?” Harry sat down on the edge of her mattress and looked into her face, his expression serious. “And before you say anything,” he added hastily as Hermione opened her mouth, “it’s not your fault but mine. No, please, let me finish.”

The blood rose to her cheeks as she averted her eyes from Harry’s bright green ones and studied the pattern on her coverlet with new-found interest. Harry’s voice was soft and calm, but she could hear the anger in it and how she knew Harry; anger at himself.

“I should not have left you alone. I just thought, because it’s been so long since that thing with Ron happened that he wouldn’t try to come here anytime soon. He’s not stupid – at least that’s what I thought. He should know better than to march in here and expect me to welcome him with a smile.”

“He probably thought that you’re at the try-outs, which was indeed true,” Hermione said, shyly taking his hand in hers. She squeezed it lightly and Harry smiled.

“Besides, you’re the last one that can sufficiently say it was their fault, Harry. You weren’t the one who told Ron he should treat me the way he did. You weren’t the one who invited him to come over. So please don’t beat yourself up over this.”

Saddened, Harry lowered his eyes and idly began playing with Hermione’s hand. A tingle as strong as electrical surges shot through her fingers, into her arm and all the way to her toes. A pleasant shiver ran down her spine and a small smile crept onto her face.

After some time, Harry took a deep breath, his eyes still on their intertwined hands. “I really didn’t want you to get hurt,” he whispered in embarrassment.

Hermione smiled. He could me so sweet, especially when he didn’t know it. His slightly pink cheeks were just visible under the strands of his black hair that hung into his face and hid his eyes from her.

Hermione inhaled slowly and closed her eyes, fully concentrating on the feeling of Harry’s hands around hers.

“When I saw him in the kitchen… I just sort of lost control. You looked so scared and Ron….” He took a deep breath to sort out his troubled thought.

“I didn’t want you to suffer from my anger. I wanted to drag Ron away from you as quickly as possible, but the spell got a little bit out of hand and then….” His breath hitched and got irregular.

Confused, Hermione opened her eyes and saw a single tear slide down his cheek, out from under his black, silky hair and fall onto their clasped hands. Slowly, she sat up. Her head protested, but she ignored it. She propped herself up on her right elbow, so she could gently run her left hand over his damp cheek. Harry stiffened and his head snapped up. His bright green eyes were wide as he stared at her, but she smiled at him lovingly and wiped the tears from his skin.

“Everything will be alright,” she murmured softly and, ignoring the weak protests of her vis-à-vis, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close.

Harry froze, but after a few seconds he slowly raised his arms and pulled her closer. The scent of her hair rose into his nostrils and he had to give everything to not moan out loud. She smelled so good!

Hermione hummed softly as Harry’s hand found its way into her hair.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered as Harry’s other hand played with the hem of her shirt. “Not at all your fault.”

Harry sniffed and buried his face in the warm crook of Hermione’s neck. Slowly, he felt the tension that had taken control of his body during the events in the kitchen let go of him. Hermione was his haven, his rock and he knew he could always rely on her. Her pulse pounded gently under his cheek. She had to be safe! She meant too much to him as to let anything happen to her! He would protect her, even if that meant he had to raise the wand against Ron – and this time in a duel.

Gingerly, he turned his face so that his nose came into contact with the soft skin just over her collarbone, and took a deep breath. He felt a shiver run down Hermione’s spine. He smirked. The hand in her hair moved slowly downwards and stopped between her shoulder blades.

Hermione sighed softly.

Harry summoned his courage and ran his nose gently and shyly over her collarbone to her neck, where he paused again and inhaled deeply. Her scent befuddled all his senses, as he slowly bowed his head and very lightly – as if she was not supposed to feel it – pressed his lips onto the silky, smooth, pale skin. Hermione gasped softly as another shiver ran down her spine, causing her to pull him even closer.

The corners of his mouth twitched slightly as a smile crept onto his face. All of this felt good. _No_ , he thought, inwardly shaking his head. _No, this doesn’t just feel good. It feels right!_ Smiling and with a wildly beating heart, he kissed her neck again, this time a little further up. Hermione shuddered pleasantly as she imagined how those wonderful lips would feel on hers….

Just as she wondered whether she should dare to turn her head to Harry to spare him from going all the long way up her neck and along jaw line, a troubled voice came floating up from one of the lower floors. It was Lily.

“Harry? He’s waking up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!
> 
> Until next time - see ya! :D


	12. That Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the next chapter! Enjoy reading :DThat Night

**That Night**

_Just as she wondered whether she should dare to turn her head to Harry to spare him from going all the long way over her neck and jaw, a troubled voice came floating up from one of the lower floors. It was Lily._

_“Harry? He’s waking up!”_

*~*HP*~*

Hermione blinked as Harry jumped up and hurried to the door. Her heart was still beating like crazy, her cheeks were flushed and her hands trembled slightly.

“Lily?” she whispered and frowned, confused.

*~*HP*~*

Harry rushed down the hall and down the stairs. He couldn’t believe what he had just almost done! How could he be so stupid? How could he forget that it was Hermione? Well, strictly speaking, he had not forgotten that very detail – how could it? Hermione he could not forget easily; that was impossible. But he had sworn to forget his feelings for her, or if that didn’t work – which was obviously the case – he would not act on them. And he was good at it. Only the smallest smile, the slightest touch could cause him wonderful feelings, but he tried to not react to those sensations. But what had just happened? Harry shuddered. He really wanted it, but what of Hermione didn’t want it… didn’t want _him_?

Harry sighed as he walked into the kitchen. Lily pointed silently to Ron, who marched through the kitchen, bristling with anger. He must have found out that he could not disapparate. Harry sneered. _As fast as always_.

Ron’s eyes flashed angrily as he saw Harry come into the room. He’d make him lose that stupid grin, he thought, barely keeping his emotions under control. His hands at his sides clenched into fists, he walked up to Harry. His complexion had almost the same tone as his hair, which was wetted with sweat and clung to his temples, sticking out in his neck.

“ _You!_ ” he hissed, pushing Harry with so much force that he stumbled through the kitchen and could only just stop himself from falling by holding onto the backrest of a chair at the last moment. “How can you do this to me? How can you do this to Hermione?”

Harry stared at Ron as if he had just grown a new eye in the middle of his bright red forehead. _What?_

“I thought you were our friend! And friends are there for each other, not like you! You only wanted to befriend me, so you could get to Hermione. Admit it! You wanted her and simply couldn’t accept that she liked me more than you; that she chose me over you. You simply cannot accept that I have something the great Harry Potter does not have!”

“Have you completely lost your marbles now?” Harry’s voice was calm. He had to make a huge effort not to blow up right here and now.

“You’ve got a serious problem! Tell me, do you even listen to the bullshit that’s coming out of your mouth?” Sneering, he shook his head and glared at his former best friend.

“This is not about envy or injustice! This is not about you or me! This is about Hermione and about what you did to her and before you even try to say anything right now,” he hissed furiously and took a step towards Ron, who instinctively recoiled, “you know very well that you fucking behaved abysmally!”

Ron’s face was redder in colour and slowly became a rather unhealthy looking purple.

“I do not care what you say about me. I give a shit about what you think of me, but I thought that seven years of friendship meant more to you than being worth just getting thrown out of a window any day and stepped on for good measure. You’ve hurt Hermione and I’ll never forgive you, understood? I thought we were friends, after all that we went through –“

“After all we’ve been through?” Ron laughed spitefully and also took a step forward. They were facing each other now, standing at an arm’s length. “Don’t make me laugh! Don’t be ridiculous. You would have _died_ without us! You would not have survived a week before You-Know-Who would have found you. You haven’t even thanked us. You have demanded from us to just leave our families –“

 _“I did what?”_ yelled Harry, closing the gap between him and Ron. They were now so close that Harry could knock this idiot out just by jerking his head forward.

“ _I_ did not ask you to come with me. _I_ did not want you to leave everything behind and risk you lives for something that wasn’t even your responsibility or fate or whatever it might have been. But _you_ wanted to help me. _You_ wanted to come with me because you knew well enough that I needed you! I’ve always needed you, damn it!”

“You have a strange way of showing it,” Ron yelled back and drops of spit hit Harry’s face. “To ask Hermione to leave me? Deep in the forest? You call that friendship?” Ron laughed humourlessly.

“I have never asked you to let us down, Ron. I have wanted you to stay! When you were gone, Hermione has not been the same anymore! She has cried for nights on end, she has barely talked and she has acted as if she had given up hope. She hasn’t wanted you to leave and neither have I!”

“And yet you demanded-“

“I haven’t demanded _anything_ from her! It was her personal decision to stay with me. Ron, you both promised to stay with me. I have tried to dissuade you, or have you forgotten that already? I’ve tried to save you from my fate, but you would have none of that. And Hermione alone has kept that promise! Of course, I was grateful for that! How could I not be when you left your families behind you and put your lives on the line just to help me with my duty? _My_ duty, Ron; not _yours._ Hermione stayed. You didn’t. So don’t you dare to say that Hermione wasn’t a true friend who stood by my side even if it was difficult and dangerous at times!”

Ron snorted and pushed him away with all his strength. Harry crashed painfully into the kitchen table, but managed not to groan out loud at the impact. Getting to the door, Ron turned around one last time. His eyes flashed with hatred and contempt. Harry gulped. He was accustomed to see this look on Vernon’s face, even Petunia’s and Malfoy’s, but Ron’s?

His former best and first ever friend shook his head and glared at him. “You’re such a traitor, Harry. I was hoping that you’d see reason and that we might be able to start all over again, to forget what’s been, you know? But I see I was wrong. And I thought we were friends.” And with that, he turned and marched up the stairs, down the hall and out of the front door that slammed shut behind him with a deafening _bang_.

*~*HP*~*

Hermione frowned. Absentmindedly, she noticed the voices she heard coming from the kitchen getting louder and more excited. But her thoughts were not with Ron. No, they were with the clear female voice – soft and comfortable, albeit with a nervous undertone. It had to be Lily, Harry’s mother. She couldn’t think of another plausible explanation. Harry had asked her to let him know, should Ron wake up.

Hermione took a deep breath and let herself sink slowly against her pillow. _Lily_ , she thought, a smile crept onto her face. She had been by her side in the kitchen, as Ron had refused to let her go. She had backed her… But why was she able to hear her?

In the beginning, when she had sought refuge at Harry’s all those months ago, to find and experience security and – if she admitted it to herself – comfort and warmth, she had neither seen nor heard her. Then Harry’s nightmares appeared which had stopped as soon as he had been able to see Lily. Eventually, she too had been capable to guess where her best friend’s dead mother was at the moment….

 _Best friend_. Hermione blushed. Yes, he was her best friend, but was that everything he was for her? She knew what she felt for him. If she was honest, she had known for quite some time now, but what did Harry feel for her? Did he even feel anything for her, and of so, were those feelings of a friendly or a romantic nature? She sighed.

She did not know. As much as she wanted to think that maybe Harry saw more in her than just _the best friend he had known all his childhood_ , Harry’s behaviour towards her had been distinct – every now and then glances here and there, hugs that lasted longer than normal… But all that could just mean that he liked her – be it as a best friend or sister. Until a few minutes ago she could not have clearly said how Harry felt about her, but now….

Hermione shook her head and turned to the window, pulled the blanket over her shoulder and looked into the bright afternoon sun. Now she was even more confused than before….

*~*HP*~*

She slowly opened her eyes. The sun had set. Now, stars and the moon lid up the dark sky. She must have fallen asleep, she thought, and sat up, yawning. Her room was dark; the moon light put everything in an eerie dim light. She could see the outlines of the furniture that were placed in her room in Harry’s house. And she could see an enigmatic figure sitting next to her that was leaning forward slightly.

Hermione started, gasped and drew back. A ghost of a smile, a hand – or was it a hand? – that ran through something red – _her hair._ What she saw was hard to put into words. Transparent, but not really transparent; colourless, yet not really entirely clear in substance; the outline recognizable, but not exactly there… she frowned.

“Mrs Potter?”

A soft laugh reached her ears, and she felt a smile brighten her face. The voice was the same gentle voice that had drifted out of the kitchen in the afternoon, but why could she hear her? _Maybe Lily can help me with that_ , she thought and slowly turned over to the shimmering figure sitting on the edge of her bed.

“I hope I didn’t scare you,” she said softly, running a hand through her red hair again, pushing it out of her face. The shimmer moved slightly and Hermione suspected that she tried to get comfortable and suspend the awkward silence between them.

“Just a little bit,” Hermione smiled sheepishly and played with her blanket. A thread was loose.

“I’m sorry,” Lily sighed. “I didn’t think you could actually see me. Or,” she paused, “let’s say, I’ve not thought about it.” Her voice was bright, almost as if she was fighting a laugh.

“What do you mean?” Did she know what all of this meant? She understood why Harry had suddenly been able to see his mother, but she? She was in no way affiliated to the young woman in front of her. Their only connection was that she, Hermione, had a crush on her, Lily’s, son. She blushed at that thought. _Harry_. Maybe he was the key to all of this?

“First of all, please call me Lily. Mrs Potter sounds as if I were of Minerva’s age.” She laughed brightly. “And I’m pretty sure that you can help me with this one.” Lily smirked as she watched the young witch in front of her.

Her cheeks were burning with embarrassment, her hands were nervously playing with a loose thread that seemed to have broken out of the knotted pattern on the bedspread, but nevertheless she watched her with a slight frown on her beautiful face.

Hermione swallowed nervously. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Lily smiled. “Harry was a little – how should I put it?” – _excited_ when he came into the kitchen. Did that possibly have anything to do with what happened in this very room?” Innocently, she watched her son’s best friend – or maybe soon girlfriend – and tried to not laugh out loud.

Hermione’s eyes were wide as saucers and her cheeks were literally glowing.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” stammered the young witch as she tried to calm down her heartbeat.

“Oh, come on. I was freshly in love once as well.” Lily winked at her encouragingly. Not that Hermione could see it; but it was worth a try.

“I remember exactly what it was like when James and I got together. The shy glances, the constant need to be with him and that silly grin that simply wouldn’t disappear from our faces. Not to mention the warmth and tingling whenever I saw him, or whenever he took my hand.” She smiled dreamy and a little sad. All of that was over fifteen years ago, and all those years she had not been allowed to see him.

She took a deep breath to prevent the tears from falling from her dry eyes.

She wondered what he was doing at the moment. He was in Godric’s Hollow, that was for sure, but what did he do? Was he alone or was someone with him? Did he stroll through the village or did he spend his time in their house or even on their graves? She did not know. She did not know what the love of her life was up to and it broke her heart. She missed him and wanted nothing more than for Harry to meet his father. It wasn’t even that important to her anymore to finally go to heaven; or wherever the deceased went after their death. If it were up to her, she would gladly spend the rest of their lives on earth, in the knowledge that Harry was aware of them, knew them.

But the longer she was at Harry’s side, the stronger she felt the urge to go back to Godric’s Hollow. It got increasingly difficult with time.

There were moments when she had to stop whatever she was doing and fully concentrate on the here and now to not lose control of the death bond magic. She knew that James could not keep the link stabilized forever, to keep her out of Godric’s Hollow, but now, as she felt it in her own body, she knew for sure that his strength was rapidly decreasing and the speed of that process scared her.

She was afraid that Harry would not get to know his father; afraid that she could not be with him just like the entire rest of his life; afraid that something might happen to him. She knew he could take care of himself, but just thinking about the possibilities made her feel sick. She wanted to see him happy; carefree and without any fear.

“I’m sorry,” the quiet voice snapped her out of her depressing thoughts. Hermione came closer and sat down in front of her. Her brown eyes travelled over her face, but did not find her green ones. Lily paused. “I’m sorry that you are separated from him.”

Lily smiled. “That you do not need to be sorry for, dear.” Hesitantly, she lifted her hand and placed it in Hermione’s shoulder. Her hand floated a few millimetres above her body; it would go right through immediately otherwise.

“It was our decision and we have no regrets. If all of this were to happen again, we would do the exact same things and I don’t only say that because it’s my opinion. I know that James feels the exact same way. He would do anything to make sure that Harry could lead a happy life and all of this is just what we signed up for, out of our own free will.”

“But?” Hermione looked at the pale glow in front of her. She kept something secret and her gut feeling told her of was of importance.

Lily hesitated. “It’s getting harder,” she said slowly, as if she wasn’t sure whether Hermione would understand. When a puzzled frown darkened the young woman’s face in front of her, Lily took a deep breath and began to talk.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay,” Lily sighed and ran a hand through her hair, a gesture that she had unconsciously adopted from James. To see Harry act just like that was merely the ice on the cake. “It is getting increasingly difficult for James to keep the bond magic interrupted.”

“Are you saying that it could very well be possible for you to be pulled back to Godric’s Hollow by tomorrow because what? The bond to your place of death gets too strong for James to keep you out of the village?”

Lily nodded.

Hermione blew all the air out of her lungs and stared at the young dead woman who sat across from her; the woman, who had taken so much on herself to be with her son, who had not been able to see or hear her for his entire life. She had to watch how other people treated him and how he had suffered, without ever being able to intervene. And yet, despite the separation from her husband and the emotional pain she had to suffer from for nearly twenty years, she had stayed. The respect she felt for this strong witch increased immeasurably.

Hesitantly and somewhat embarrassed, she asked the question she had wanted to ask from the moment on that she had read the Potters’ story in one of her many history books. “How was it… to live all hidden and isolated from everything and everyone?”

Lily froze.

“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to talk about it,” Hermione added hastily when she saw Lily’s reaction. “I was merely curious. If you don’t want to tell me, I completely understand-“

“It was horrible,” the whispered words interrupted her. Hermione paused and watched the pale glow that she knew was Harry’s mother.

Lily sat hunched on the edge of the bed, hands in her lap, head lowered. She trembled slightly.

“When Dumbledore called us one day with the request to take Harry and come to see him, we knew something was wrong. We would never have left Harry alone, Dumbledore knew that, but hearing him specifically asking us to take our son with us was… unusual.”

She took a deep breath and sighed loudly. “I can still remember it as if it was yesterday. We sat in our kitchen. James played with Harry and I stood at the stove. It was shortly after his birthday and the gifts were still lying in a corner of the room. Sirius had given him a toy broomstick. I wanted to lock it away, so Harry couldn’t reach it on his own, but he loved it so much that every time I wanted to take the broom out of the room, tears would gather in his eyes.

“And what can you do if he stares at you with those big green eyes, his bottom lip quivering and his cheeks getting redder with the second?” Lily smiled tenderly, lost in thought. “An owl knocked on our window and I let it in. From that moment on it all went down the drain.”

 _Yes_ , Hermione thought knowing what was to follow. The revelation of the prophecy, the secret keeper, the Fidelius Charm and ultimately Halloween. She swallowed.

“We were not allowed to leave the house,” Lily’s voice was trembling and barely audible. Deep, decades-old emotional pain she tried to hide sounded with every word.

“The Fidelius Charm did cover our front and back garden, but we were never out longer than absolutely necessary. In the summer months we took Harry out for one or two hours a day, so he could get some fresh air. Daisies were growing in the grass and he loved to pick them. I then made a small necklace out of them, which he proudly wore on his little head, almost like a crown. He loved to play in the garden. Now and then Sirius came over and let him ride on his back. I can still hear Harry’s carefree laughter.”

Her dreamy smile faded from her pretty face. “After Halloween I’ve never heard that laugh again.”

Hermione swallowed as she fought back the tears that threatened to run down her cheeks. Somehow she had known that Harry had been a happy child. Something about his character, his charisma told her that he had once felt deep happiness many years ago. Once. Then the Dursleys had come and destroyed all that had been left of the happy child, shortly after he had been forced to watch his mother get murdered right before his very eyes, probably in the knowledge that his father would not come and save him.

“We were trapped in our own house.” Lily sniffed and slowly brushed a strand of red hair out of her face. “Our home, which had always meant security and safety suddenly became a prison. The constant fear that at any moment Voldemort could come in through the door was so great that we sometimes did not know how we should move on. We knew we had to stay strong, so our baby boy could survive and if there hadn’t been Sirius, Remus and unfortunately Pettigrew we would have gone crazy after a few days.

“We didn’t get any more owls because the Fidelius Charm prevented them from getting through the wards. Sometimes, Dumbledore came over to keep us up to date. We had to unofficially leave the Order. I would not have gone back on missions anyway, not with Harry at our side. I know James feels the same way. And then Halloween came,” Lily paused and looked up at the young witch, who was staring at her in horror. “I assume you know what happened on Halloween?”

Hermione nodded silently.

Lily closed her eyes. Her face was distorted with emotional pain; pain that only she could feel. “It was a normal day. We were hidden for just a little over two months and considering it was the end of September the weather was relatively nice. If you looked out of the window of our living room, you could see the road in front of the house. It was covered in red and yellow leaves that hid the cobblestones. Families with dressed-up children ran through the streets laughing, on the way to the pub for an early dinner before going trick or treating. Harry watched the passing children. He was very calm, as if he knew that he couldn’t be with them and roam the streets with his parents like everyone else.

When it got dark I picked him up and carried him over to James. He sat on the couch and was engrossed in a report for the Order. He knew that we would go on no more missions until Voldemort was defeated, but every now and then he used to help Dumbledore with ideas and assumptions – the brain behind the missions so to speak. When he saw the two of us, he put the report aside, a smile brightening his face and took Harry from me, who immediately started mumbling excitedly to himself.” She laughed softly. The scene played out in front of her mind’s eye.

“James replied and my two boys discussed for quite some time about something seemingly important, if you could go by how Harry gestured wildly and James nodded seriously.” Smiling, she shook her head.

“After a few minutes of serious discussion,” Hermione giggled softly, “Harry began to yawn. James was puffing colourful clouds of smoke out of his wand which Harry enthusiastically tried to catch. Whenever his little fists came near one cloud, the smoke vanished. They had so much fun that they didn’t notice the time pass. Me neither, to be honest. I could watch my two boys for hours on end. Anyway, it was late, so I said I’d put Harry to bed. James wanted to be upstairs on time for the bedtime story, so he could give Harry a good night kiss, but then….”

Hermione nodded sadly. She knew how the story continued. The whole wizarding world knew. Everyone knew the story of the boy who lost his childhood that night.

“I just want him to be happy,” Lily whispered after a few minutes in which both witches struggled with their tears. “That’s all we ever wanted.”

 _I will help her_ , Hermione thought determinedly and watched the young woman in front of her; the young woman that had sacrificed her short life for Hermione’s best friend, so that he could live a happy and free life. But the world had had other plans for him.

She knew that she couldn’t do it on her own, though, but what she did know for sure was that she could count on one person to accomplish this. _Harry._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! 
> 
> I am still struggling with the load of uni work that I am drowning in, so I hope that I'll be able to upload weekly, even though this story is not yet completely finished.
> 
> Until next time - see ya :D


	13. The Ritual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had the best weekend ever! :D So, it only fits to upload one of my favourite chapters. I hope you'll like it!
> 
> Enjoy reading!

**The Ritual**

“I think I found something.”

Huffing and loaded with a dangerously wobbly pile of books, Hermione staggered into the room. Her face was red, her hair dishevelled, but a big smile lit up her face. “ _Ahhh_!”

Harry jumped up and hurried over to his small friend and the extremely high stack of books; precisely at the right moment. The books and parchment rolls wobbled threateningly and, with a yelp from Hermione, they tumbled out of her wildly moving arms that were desperately trying to prevent them from falling. Harry dived forward and managed to catch the majority of the heavy tomes.

“Thanks,” Hermione murmured, embarrassed, as Harry stood up, huffing slightly, and returned the tomes with a cheeky grin. She cleared her throat and turned towards the sofa, on which Harry had just been sitting until a few seconds ago. Her cheeks beamed in a bright red colour as she heard a chuckle.

“Lily! Oh, I didn’t know you were… here… as well.” Uttering a little cough and with her head held high, she marched through the living room towards the coffee table, on which stood a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits, knelt down and let the books drop onto the table’s surface with a loud _bang_ , causing the mug to rattle against the saucer.

“Like I was saying,” she huffed and pushed the hair out of her face and behind her ears, “I think I’ve found something that might help us.”

Harry looked from his heavily breathing best friend to his confused mother and back to Hermione, who was standing in front of them, her hands on her hips and looking from one to the other with an expectant look.

“How so?” Harry asked, pulled out his wand and pointed it at the spilled tea and soggy pastry, both of which disappeared, leaving the clean table surface behind.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I thought we were going to help your parents. Or did I get that wrong?” She raised an eyebrow. Her grin widened as Harry’s eyes got bigger and a small gasp escaped his pink lips.

“Exactly. I have done some research,” Harry coughed, “and I think I’ve found something that might help us. But in advance: I don’t know for sure whether we can actually perform this ritual successfully. It is quite complex and complicated.”

Harry gulped. “Ritual?”

Lily’s eyebrows drew together. Rituals were very extensive and, if done wrong, dangerous. She had heard of cases in which those who had wanted to perform the ritual had been seriously injured, disfigured or killed in the process. For this reason, hundreds of years ago the Ministry of Magic had classified most rituals as Black Magic, to prevent people from performing them. They could not forbid them or mark them as illegal, but they could do everything in their power to achieve that wizards and witches did not _want_ to perform these rituals. And they had achieved that goal for the most part.

“More specifically, a blood ritual,” Hermione’s voice dragged Lily out of her reveries. Harry swallowed nervously. “I know that this is considered to be dark, but I haven’t found anything else that could possibly help us with our problem.” Hermione smiled shakily and knelt in front of her stack of books that covered the table’s surface completely after just a few seconds.

Harry slowly sat down next to his mother on the couch where Lily immediately put her hand over his. He smiled at her encouragingly and turned back to Hermione, who had just begun to leaf through the books and read quote after quote out loud.

Lily blinked. She knew how much these two young people took upon themselves, only to help both her and James. The danger which they would be in was clear to her and, as she was sure, to them as well. Was this ritual to go wrong….

She swallowed. No, she did not want to think about it now. The potion that needed to be brewed would include Harry’s blood because he was her and James’ last blood relative, having both her and James’ blood flow through his veins. If they waited just a second too long, stirred too fast or added an ingredient too late, not to mention what would happen if they pronounced the incantation wrong, the consequences would immediately trace back to the blood donor; namely to Harry.

If something went wrong, Harry would have to bear the consequences.

Her gaze travelled from the books to her son, who was sitting next to her, tense, yet he seemed to absorb every word that left Hermione’s lips. He knew. She was sure that he knew the risk he was only too willing to take – for her and James.

Lily took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She could feel the bond as it tried to pull her back to Godric’s Hollow. She would not be able to withstand it for much longer. James’ magic and energy weakened; she had to be in close proximity to Harry more often now in order to draw from his magic, so she would have enough energy to stay in London and with her son. But how long she would be able to exist of that, she didn’t know. _Not for long. That much is obvious._

“I’ve already checked whether we still need ingredients and if we do, what kind we need for this ritual, and I made a list. It’s not much, but there are a few things we can’t buy in the apothecary.” Hermione looked down at the small piece of paper which she held in her hand.

“You mean we’ll need to….” Harry trailed off, his gaze also directed at the piece of parchment.

“Go to the black market. Yes.”

Lily sat up abruptly and stared at the two friends, who looked at each other seriously. “To the black market? No.”

Harry blinked and turned to face her. His emerald-green eyes looked into hers and his black brows drew together in confusion. “Why not? If it’s the only way…”

“It’s not worth it to possibly be arrested!” Enraged, she jumped up and whirled away from the table.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a quick glance before Harry got up slowly and walked over to her. Lily took a deep breath and closed her eyes in order to get over the sudden dizzy spell. She didn’t have much time anymore. “I don’t want you to risk your freedom just because of James and me,” she whispered softly and swayed ever so slightly as the dizziness increased.

“Lily,” Hermione looked at Harry, who watched his mother with narrowed eyes. “Lily, please, we’re only trying to help. I’m sure nothing bad will –“

“Mum?” Harry interrupted her, stepping forwards, his hand stretched out towards his mother, who was floating in front of them. Hermione fell silent. “Mum? Is everything okay?”

Lily laughed shakily. Her figure flickered; the colour of her red hair, her blue dress and her closed green eyes faded, but got stronger a second later, only to weaken again afterwards. Her once definite and clear outlines blurred before his eyes for brief moments.

“Mum?” Harry’s voice trembled as he walked over to his mother and raised an unsteady hand.

Lily shakily raised her head and smiled weakly. “I’m fine,” she whispered. She took a deep breath and was enveloped by darkness a moment later.

*~*HP*~*

“Mum!” Harry dived forward, his arms outstretched to catch his unconscious mother, but she slipped through them without any resistance and landed silently on the floor of the parlour. He immediately let himself fall to the floor beside her. A nearly supressed sob escaped him. He was trembling.

Hermione did not know what had happened. In one moment they had discussed the ritual and in the next… She swallowed and looked at the shimmering figure on the ground, next to which Harry was kneeling, frantically trying to wake her up. She did not know what exactly had just happened. Damn it, she didn’t even know ghosts could lose consciousness!

“Harry?” Her voice was low and tentative. She wanted to reassure him, but he didn’t hear her. His voice was getting more frantic with each passing minute in which Lily stayed unconscious.

“Mum, _please._ Please wake up! _Mum_!” He sobbed loudly and buried his face in his hands. That couldn’t be true! He knew she would not stay with him forever; he even tried to help her plan to move on as fast as possible, but to see this fact so adamant and final right in front of his eyes, that she wouldn’t always be by his side…. He whimpered softly and crawled closer to Lily’s unconscious form. It seemed so… _real_. To see it made it all the more painful and only…. Harry shook his head and rocked back and forth slightly. This couldn’t be true. No.

A bad feeling settled itself in Hermione’s stomach as she watched mother and son. To see Harry like that, so fragile and desperate broke her heart. The young man kneeling in front of her on the floor, mumbling softly and trying to suppress his sobs was the complete opposite of the Harry, whom she had known all these years as a best friend. Shy, yet determined, courageous and selfless. That Harry never had his fears and concerns openly displayed, but the wizard, who seemed to slowly but surely calm down, didn’t care about that aspect of showing fear.

 _This_ Harry however, who was carefully putting his hand over the ghost’s one, knew the feeling of being reassured and encouraged by his mother, to have someone sincerely worrying about him. The eleven-year old boy with the broken glasses and too big clothes had never been granted this knowledge.

“Harry?” she asked timidly, as she sat down next to the black haired wizard on the floor. He jumped slightly as she put her hand on his shoulder.

“What happened, Hermione?” His voice was soft and pleading. “Why won’t she wake up?” He sniffed softly and ran his free hand over his face with a shaky sigh.

“I’m sure she’s all right,” she said soothingly and looked at the shimmering figure that lay before them. She didn’t move. “If she wouldn’t wake up anymore,” she tried to ignore the teary gasp that escaped Harry’s lips, “then why is she still here?”

Harry paused and stared at her with wide eyes. She was right. Of course she was right – she was Hermione. He hadn’t even thought about that. Pondering, he turned away from Hermione, whose hand was still lying on his shoulder calmly and gave him support. Lily’s figure still flickered slightly, her glowing light was still quite low, but he could see a little difference compared to before, though. Her still being with them – whether conscious or unconscious – meant that she wasn’t being pulled back to Godric’s Hollow. A load fell off his shoulders as a warm feeling flowed through him.

He blinked at Hermione, who smiled at him and nodded slightly. He didn’t need to tell her how he felt, what exactly he needed to hear in a moment of despair, or – just like now – just how very grateful he was. Hermione was always there for him and one of the few people who had always stood at his side and stood up for him, even without a spark of doubt in their minds.

Harry hesitantly put his hand on Hermione’s and squeezed it lightly. The butterflies in his stomach took off and did somersault after somersault. He swallowed and took a deep breath to formulate his next thought.

“What happens,” he said slowly, trying to suppress the blush that crept onto his cheeks. Hermione had not pulled her hand away. Her fingers brushed gently over his skin and intertwined with his. “W-What happens if something goes wrong while performing the ritual?”

Hermione frowned slightly.

“I mean,” he added hastily before she could interrupt him, without having explained what he really meant. “I’m not afraid of what might happen to me. Well,” he paused and laughed nervously, “I guess I _am_ rather nervous. It is, after all, my blood which will be used for the ritual. But what would happen to Mum? What if, for whatever reason, the ritual goes wrong and something bad happens to her? What if she’ll be stuck here forever or go to hell or something? And Dad – what will happen to him?”

Hermione looked Harry in the eye and let her thoughts run free. Her mind was racing and thoughts of possible consequences ruled her brain; something could happen to Harry, he could be injured or killed, lose his mind, lose his memory… Lily and James could forever be stuck in Godric’s Hollow without someone with whom they were in touch, because Harry would be the last wizard of their bloodline and thus their last chance of liberation – with him their hopes and the chance to move on would die as well. They could be pulled into nothingness, be trapped forever in torment or be dragged to another, unknown place….

She swallowed. But she didn’t know for sure. The texts she had consulted on this issue had not supplied any clear information on what would happen, would the ritual… well… go wrong.

She could not say what would happen to him, what would happen to his parents. They mustn’t fail! She had read through hundreds of rituals for weeks, had gathered the available information about hundreds of spells that might somehow be useful to them. After weeks of unsuccessful research, she had stumbled upon an ancient book about blood rituals in a small shelf that had been effectively hidden behind dusty old furniture and carpets. She couldn’t say whether she had overlooked important information, but she knew she would give anything to carry it out successfully and according to the old instructions. A risk remained; she was not naïve and believed she had found the ultimate solution to their problem, but she hoped that they were on the right track.

“I don’t know,” she whispered tiredly and sighed deeply. “I really don’t know.”

Harry nodded and lowered his eyes. He had not expected anything else.

*~*HP*~*

Quiet voices reached her ears as the world rebuilt itself around her. The ground beneath her was cool, the wood slightly rough. The room was nice and warm. Slowly, the voices grew louder and clearer. They seemed to be talking to each other softly. Their tone was serious, albeit a little worried. Lily frowned slightly. Her eyes were closed and still too difficult to open at the moment.

“And Dad – what will happen to him?”

Lily felt warmth spread through her body as her heart swell. Harry was worried about them. She already knew that but to hear it like that… her mouth twitched slightly as the corners tried to rise.

Silence was the answer to this question and Lily wondered whether the two had quietly left the room, but the whispered reply from Hermione taught her differently. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

Groaning and with great difficulty, she slowly opened her eyes. The dimmed lighting in the room was too bright for her eyes and she immediately squeezed them shut again as she realized that her head was starting to throb.

“Mum!”

“What happened?” she murmured softly and lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the ceiling light. When she opened them the room around her began to spin unpleasantly fast.

“You collapsed,” her son’s voice was low and nervous. He knelt beside her on the floor, his face pale and his eyes wide. “You started to flicker and then you suddenly…” He trailed off as he eyed Lily, who tried to sit up.

“It’s okay,” she said with a soft groan and swayed slightly as she tried to stabilize herself on her elbows on the floor. Harry’s hands twitched uncertainly beside her. He wanted to help her, but he knew he couldn’t touch her. She smiled at him lovingly and sat up slowly. As she sat upright, she turned to face him. “I’m feeling better. You don’t need to worry about me, sweetheart.”

Harry blushed slightly under the caring gaze of his mother. “But what happened?” he asked, running his trembling hand through his hair, exhausted. “Why have you…”

“I think my time is running out,” Lily smiled apologetically and put a reassuring hand on her son’s shoulder, just as his eyes widened and he opened his mouth to ask worried questions. “I would really like to tell you exactly what’s happening here,” she continued hurriedly, so he wouldn’t have the chance to interrupt her, “but I can only guess. I told you that seventeen years ago James… well… lent me some of his magic so I could be by your side, right?” She narrowed her eyes slightly. That sounded wrong, but she didn’t know she could explain it better differently.

Harry nodded and waited for his mum to continue.

“I think his strength leaves him.”

Harry frowned. “Do you mean that….”

“I cannot stay here for long anymore?” Lily smiled and nodded slightly. “Yes, I’m afraid. The bond is getting stronger; I can clearly feel it and if I’m not in your direct proximity, I cannot withstand it as easily as I once could.” Her cheeks blushed slightly as she looked into her son’s green eyes that resembled hers so much.

“We’ll help you, Mum.” Harry’s voice was determined as he turned to Hermione and nodded to her. “We just need a few more ingredients and then we’ll start with the ritual.”

*~*HP*~*

Nervously, she looked from the young witch, who held a thick, ancient and slightly decayed book in her arms to the young wizard in front of her, who just stood up to examine the pentagram on the ground he had just drawn with chalk. He looked satisfied. She was floating in the middle of the star, all of the tips at the same distance of her feet. She looked at the two, unsure.

“There mustn’t be a gap in the pentagram, Harry,” said the brown haired witch, her nose still buried in the book.

The black haired wizards rolled his eyes good-naturedly, but went back to the circle that surrounded the star to once again check his work.

At all of the star’s five corners stood a porcelain bowl each that seemed to glow in the light of the candles, which were put in equal distances to the ghost in the middle of the star. A brightly polished, fairly large dagger decorated with rubies and emeralds lay on a nearby table, which was covered with parchments full of runes, incantations and ingredient lists, vessels with herbs, innards of magical creatures and horns, scales and the essence of a dragon’s fire – everything from the black market.

The wizard nodded, satisfied, put the chalk on the low table on which the rest of the ingredients was stored, and took the bowl with the grated herbs from the wooden surface. At the direction of the witch, he walked around the chalk circle at a steady pace, stretched out his hand and let small amounts of ground herbs fall directly behind the line of the pentagram. She swallowed as she watched the young man muttering to himself in a foreign language she didn’t understand.

He blew a jet-black strand of hair out of his face and, again, went around the circle in order to check that there was no gap in the herb circle, just like he had done with the chalk circle.

Smiling, he straightened and looked at the quiet ghost in the protective circle. “The magic’s supposed to stay with you,” he said, pointing at the pentagram, which covered the entire floor of the room. “You can always step out of it. We’ll omit the part that imprisons the spirit in the pentagram.”

She frowned and looked over to the young witch, who had put the book beside her on the floor and had taken the dragon elements off the table, took one deep breath and also began to walk around the pentagram.

“Are you sure that won’t affect the ritual in some way?” The brown haired witch snorted, pausing, only to cough softly afterwards and started to continue her round, muttering her mantra of foreign-language incantations.

“Hermione’s checked everything twice and three times,” Harry said, turned around and nodded as he took the dagger from Hermione, which she silently handed to him. Concern flashed in her eyes as he took it without any hesitation. “It should work according to plan.”

Lily’s eyes darted over to Hermione’s brown ones that watched her anxiously. She tried to smile, but to seem as calm and relaxed as her best friend turned out to be a problem, despite all the research she had done beforehand.

Lily slowly let the air escape from her lungs as her eyes, just like Hermione’s, followed Harry, who paused at each corner of the star, knelt down, muttered something and stabbed into his arm – with way too much determination in Lily’s opinion – and then let a drop of blood slowly slide over his pale skin and land in the porcelain dish. The blood-red trail on his skin glistened in the candlelight.

As the fifth drop of red, viscous liquid hit the cold porcelain, all of the torches and candles in the room blazed and lit everything in bright, flickering light for a short time, illuminating the three pale faces that waited nervously for the ritual to begin.

*~*HP*~*

A breeze of hot air pervaded her, whirled around her and threatened to suffocate her. Her eyes would water if she’d still be alive. The flames in the room flickered wildly as the two young magicians outside of the pentagram started to cite the incantations in perfect unison. The crushed herbs around her flew into the air, showing the boundary of the circle. Her hair spun wildly in the hot storm, her ears were buzzing from the words that carried the magic into the pentagram and bound it there.

A heavy weight lay on her chest, her head throbbed uncomfortably, the pain grew stronger with every passing second. She opened her mouth, but no sound escaped her lips.

Groaning, she collapsed, a hand grabbed her chest, the other one reached for her son, who had also fallen onto his knees outside of the pentagram, a pained expression on his face. The air was thick and hot – unbearably so. The pain increased, took her sense of hearing, of feeling that she still had in her ghost-like body. She raised her head, trembling.

Harry had dropped to all fours, his arms trembling; horror superimposed the pain on his face, closely followed by fear.

He opened his mouth and shouted something. Lily groaned as a sharp flash of pain shot through her system and, with a mighty jerk, she was ripped into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh!
> 
> Hope you liked it! 
> 
> Until next time - see ya! :D


	14. Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy :D

**Tears**

_Harry dropped to all fours, his arms trembling, horror superimposed the pain on his face, closely followed by fear._

_He opened his mouth and shouted something. Lily groaned as a sharp flash of pain shot through her system and, with a mighty jerk, she was ripped into darkness._

*~*HP*~*

“Harry!” Hermione’s high-pitched cry echoed through the dark room; the pentagram in the centre of the room seemed to blaze.

Harry was lying on the ground, a hand reaching for the circle, screaming in pain. Tears were streaming down his face as he coiled up in a tight ball and tried to get the spasms under control. Hermione ran over to him, letting the old book fall to the ground, where it fell apart and burst into its individual parts immediately. Dozens, even hundreds of ancient parchment pages flew through the room as she dropped onto her knees next to the black-haired wizard with a horrified sob and pulled him onto his back.

Harry gasped as he felt too warm hands on his shoulders and arms. His skin, his muscles and bones, his whole body was on fire. The air was unbearably hot and pressed the oxygen from his lungs, the floor was smouldering under his skin. Panicked, he gasped for air. He would suffocate. The hot air was burning in his airways and etched deeper into its tissue.

He screamed and rolled around. _Just get away from this heat_ , he thought as he sank into the refreshing darkness.

*~*HP*~*

_Groaning, he pushed his sweaty hair from his forehead as he looked around slowly. Flames roared around him and heated the air to unbearable temperatures. His glasses steamed up, but when he took them off he saw nothing but the flickering light that he knew could cause him worse things than burns. How did he know that? He had not the slightest idea, yet something deep inside told him._

_He sat up and wiped his glasses dry with his sooty hands. Now, grey fingerprints and smudges deteriorated his vision, but everything was better than not being able to see anything. In torment, he pushed himself onto all fours, onto his knees, and finally onto his feet. He stood there, swaying._

_Faint laments reached his ears as he stood in the midst of blazing flames. There were several voices, he realized as he slowly turned in a circle, trying to determine their origin, but all he could see were flames, dust and soot that swirled through the hot air, driven by an invisible wind, and settled down in his lungs with each painful breath._

_Stumbling, he put one foot before the other. Something told him that he needed to find these unfortunate souls he could still hear desperately shouting for help._

_With every step he whirled more ash from the ground, every time taking away a little bit of his vision, but the voices got louder and he couldn’t give up! Step by step, he moved through the burning landscape, on the constant search for the faceless voices._

_It seemed like an eternity before suddenly a house came into sight in the distance. It was of a smaller size and its front yard was surrounded by a wooden fence. Harry’s eyebrows drew together. He knew that house. But from where? How? And when?_

_Slowly, he approached the small plot, which did not fit into the hell-like landscape with its cheery and peaceful aura._ The only thing missing is birds singing _, he thought scornfully and entered the property through a small gate, which was brightly painted. The gravel crunched under his feet as he slowly walked along the path to the front door._

_Excited voiced could be heard through the door. Raising his hand, he paused. Should he knock or go straight in? He knocked at the wood gently. The voices grew louder. He knocked again, this time a little stronger, but it seemed that no-one heard. Timidly, he reached for the doorknob, turned it and miraculously the door swung open silently._

_Harry frowned, shook his head and stepped over the threshold._

_The hallway was flooded with light, the doors to the kitchen, study and living room were open. They were the source of the flickering light of the flames that surrounded the house, but for some reason spared it. The voices came from his right; the living room._

_“I do not want you to live with him!” shouted a male voice._

_“What do you think why I left you and moved in with him?” a female voice yelled back, almost cracking with strain and emotion._

_“I told you I don’t want you to talk to me like that!” A slap was heard, followed by silence._

_Worried, Harry walked to the living room door and peered inside. In front of him stood Ron and Hermione, who was holding her cheek timidly and looking down sadly. Anger flared in him. Was it not enough that he had hit her once? Even that one time had been one time too many. Growling with rage, he entered the room, just in the same moment when Hermione’s soft voice could be heard._

_“You’re right. I’ll come back.”_

_Harry froze. No. No, it couldn’t be. He had been there when Ron had come to his house. He had seen how he had treated her with his own eyes. Hermione would never… But when he saw the grin on Ron’s face, he knew she meant it. A sharp pain in his chest made him wince. He knew Hermione. She would never give Ron a second chance, and yet…._

She will never love you _, whispered a spiteful voice in his ear._ Who could love you anyway? You’re a freak and don’t deserve it.

 _Harry’s breathing was ragged and irregular. All of them had been right – Uncle Vernon, Voldemort… How could he have thought that Hermione would stay with him because she liked him? He was the bloody Boy-Who-Lived! He had been nothing but a bodyguard._ But that’s Hermione! She doesn’t do things like that!

Apparently she does. _Harry closed his eyes tightly. His hands were buried in his hair and clung tightly to it. No, it couldn’t be true!_

_Around him, everything started to crackle. Ron took Hermione’s arm and both of them disappeared in a big bright flame and a big puff of smoke._

_He stared at the blackened spot on the wood floor on which they had just been standing. He shook his head. No. This didn’t really happen! The air in his lungs was hot. He gasped. With each breath, his lungs burned more. To his right a window shattered due to the immense heat. They couldn’t withstand the high temperatures any longer. The house around him creaked ominously under the force of the flames that threateningly crept their way up the walls._

_A rasping cough interrupted his thoughts and startled, he whirled around. From his position in the living room he could see the outlines of two figures in the hallway._

_“Run!” the man yelled to the woman, who stood between him and Harry hesitantly. They did not seem to notice him. “Go! Seek shelter!”_

_Sobbing, the woman turned and ran out of Harry’s field of vision. Smoke went up to the ceiling and wafted into the room, deteriorating his already limited vision even more. A high-pitched scream, a bang and red sparks forced the woman back into the visible part of the hallway. The man pushed her behind him without hesitation. A soft gasp was the only thing that could be heard as a green flash of light hit his chest and he collapsed._

_Harry’s ears rang. He barely noticed the woman’s screams as she threw herself next to the man onto the ground, sobbing loudly, and thus narrowly escaping the first killing curse aimed at her. The second one hit her mere seconds later and she crumbled onto the floor, lying lifelessly next to the dead body of the man._

_His whole body trembling, he looked around. He was alone in the house. Parts of the wooden ceiling creaked loudly and gave way. A big black cloud of soot and debris swept out of the kitchen and into the hallway, covering the motionless bodies – red hair became pale, black became grey._

_Behind him, flames burst out of the fireplace._

_There they were again – the voices, the laments, which he had followed to this house some time ago. With much effort, he tore his gaze away from the dirty hand sticking out from underneath the mountain of rubble and turned around. Two figures he knew only too well looked at him desperately, their faces contorted in pain._

_His father opened his mouth and burst into flames. Harry screamed and rushed forward. His hand was stretched out and reached for the flames. Immediately his skin bubbled up in blisters and, gasping, he pulled back with a jolt._

_“Help,” Harry’s head jerked up and he stared at his mother with frightened eyes before flames flared up around her and hurtled towards Harry with an angry hiss._

“NO!” With a loud cry, his eyes snapped open. He sat upright in bed, clutching onto his blanket; his pyjamas clung to his body with ice-cold sweat. Panting, he wiped his face with his sleeve and buried it in his hands. He trembled. A soft sob escaped him. _Calm down_ , he told himself, and took a shaky breath. _It was just a dream. Just a dream._ But it had all seemed so real! The fire, the heat, Godric’s Hollow, his parents, _Hermione_. Desperate, he squeezed his eyes shut as tear after tear ran down his cheek. She had left him. She would leave him. Why shouldn’t she-

“Harry?”

His head snapped up and his heart began to beat wildly when he saw Hermione standing in the doorway, her pyjamas were wrinkled and her hair tousled from sleep. He tried to suppress a sob. She had crossed the room in mere seconds and was by his side almost immediately. She sat down on the edge of his bed, put her arm around his trembling shoulders and pulled him close.

Loud sobs escaped him as he clung to her, desperately trying to be kept grounded. She was still there with him, he told himself, and new tears ran from his eyes. She was still with him.

The minutes passed, in which the two young adults stayed in each other’s embrace. Hermione didn’t say anything. She just held Harry while he finally let everything go. Those tears were not only because of the nightmare that, which she knew, he had just experienced. They were because of the moments in which he had not allowed himself to grieve, in which he had kept his worries to himself and had locked them in, without trying to properly deal with them, without being offered some honest advice and assistance as well as support, without having any ulterior motives.

It took some time for Harry’s desperate and panicked grip to ease somewhat and he seemed to calm down. She did not let him go, but pulled him closer. She smiled softly through her own tears as she felt his embrace tightening; without any panic. Satisfied, she closed her eyes and breathed in Harry’s soothing scent. A wave of warmth flowed through her as she rested her cheek on top of Harry’s head and gently ran her hand through his soft hair.

Harry shuddered as he felt her hand in his hair. Her fingernails scraped gingerly and soothingly over his scalp. He sighed softly. Everything would be alright, he thought as he noticed Hermione pulling him closer. She was with him. Together they would make it.

After some time – it felt like seconds, but according to Harry’s alarm clock it was about thirty minutes that had passed – Hermione loosened her grip and drew back slightly so that she could look him in the eye. “Do you want to talk about your dream?”

Harry’s green eyes widened and he quickly lowered his gaze. To tell her that he was afraid she would leave him? For Ron? He slowly shook his head. He hoped she would understand.

“We’ll find a way to help your parents,” Hermione frowned slightly. There was something else; something Harry hid from her. “I’m sure your mother is doing fine.”

Harry blinked as Hermione put a finger under his chin and gently lifted his head. She smiled at him tenderly as her eyes travelled over his face and seemed to memorize every inch. He blushed under her searching gaze.

Hermione stifled a giggle as she saw Harry’s embarrassed expression and cleared her throat. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

She nodded, understanding, as Harry’s cheeks darkened even more. “What is it?”

Gingerly she sat up, ignoring Harry’s obviously disappointed face and sat down next to him on his bed instead. Nervously, he slid a few inches to the side to make room for her, but she just shook her head with pink cheeks. Confused, he raised his eyebrows and now it was Hermione who found the bedspread rather interesting to look at.

She took a deep breath and, without any comment, she continued, albeit slightly shaky. Through the blanket she could feel Harry’s warm thigh pressing against hers, causing hundreds of small electric shocks which shot up her leg and through her entire body, leaving tingling warmth behind.

“Would you like to tell me?” Her voice was low. She hoped that Harry could not hear her loud heartbeat as she waited impatiently and somewhat nervously for his answer. Silence was all she heard for a long time.

“It’s silly,” Harry snorted softly and shook his head contemptuously.

“Will you tell me anyway? Please?” she added, as he grimaced. “I won’t laugh, I promise.”

Harry chuckled and lifted his gaze. A small smile was tugging at the corners of his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes, which shone with deep sadness. Hermione’s heart broke at the sight. She didn’t want him to suffer! She wanted him to be happy. She had promised that to herself a long time ago; to herself and to Lily.

“It was about me, wasn’t it?”

Harry winced slightly as he heard her words. He sighed. It was useless to lie to her. Why would he do that anyway? She had been honest with him and that at least he owed her. He nodded.

Hermione smiled and took his hand that had started to strangle the bedspread again. Harry paused and looked down at their hands. His lay on hers, with her second she slowly stroked his palm. As he looked up hesitantly, she looked down almost instantly. Harry’s heart beat faster when he saw her red cheeks that she tried to hide behind her wild brown hair.

“What happened?”

Harry hesitated. He did not know if or how he should tell her about his dream; particularly about _that_ part. But he owed it to her – after all, it was because of him that she was awake in the middle of the night.

He blinked and looked up. The moon was shining through the gap between the curtains, bathing the room in bluish, cold light. An owl could be heard as it flew past the window, probably in search of an unsuspecting mouse.

Harry took a deep breath. “It was hot,” his voice was low and rough. In front of his mind’s eye he saw the flames flickering, heard the wild crackling and the laments. “There was fire everywhere.”

Hermione sat silently next to Harry as he began to describe his nightmare. A shiver ran through her as his voice became hollow and emotionless. He told her that he had run through the flames towards the mysterious voices; that he had entered the peaceful house, which was not at all affected by the fire, “and then you were there in front of me; in the living room. Ron was there too and wanted you to come back to him.”

Harry bit back on the details. That would only make things unnecessarily uncomfortable – _even more uncomfortable_ , he thought bitterly and forced himself to speak the next words. “And you went with him.”

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed and took both of his hands tightly in hers. She waited until he looked up and into her eyes. “I would never do such a thing! You know that!”

Harry smiled shakily and nodded. “Of course, I know that, Hermione. It was stupid to dream something like that.”

 _But you cannot control what you dream_ , Hermione looked at him. Harry lowered his gaze and studied their hands thoroughly. _He really thinks I’m going to leave him._ Her heart sank as she realized that Harry really thought she would go back to Ron. Oh, if she could meet the Dursleys face to face…! She huffed and thought about what curses would be best to be used to make them realize just how much they had ruined Harry’s self-confidence and self-esteem.

Harry’s head jerked up and he stared at her with wide eyes. She smiled sheepishly. “I’ve only just imagined what I would do if I met your aunt and uncle again,” she said, and narrowed her eyes.

“My… what?” Confused, Harry frowned. His nose crinkled and Hermione felt the butterflies in her stomach do somersaults.

Heat rose up her neck to her cheeks and coloured them in a lovely pink. She swallowed and smiled sheepishly. “It’s their fault that you think I would leave you, even though I said I would never do such a thing. Especially not after everything you’ve done for me.”

“I told you I don’t think that you-“

“No, you do. Harry,” she put a finger under his chin and waited patiently until he looked up at her. Tears were listening in his eyes, but his cheeks were dry. Hermione smiled. “I will stay with you. I promise.”

Their lips met.

Harry’s breath caught as Hermione’s soft lips met his and, after a few hesitant and unsure seconds, began to move. His muscles relaxed, his panicked thoughts came to a rest, and all that he felt were her lips on his; soft, warm and so unspeakably _Hermione_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bloody hell... FINALLY! Took them long enough, didn't it?
> 
> I hope you liked it!
> 
> Until next time - see ya! :D


	15. Insecurities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I have the worst cold ever D: I'm glad I didn't forget about updating! Because I've been forgetting a lot during these past few days...
> 
> Enjoy reading!

**Insecurities**

If he told himself afterwards who he had kissed for minutes on end, he would always blush whenever her image drifted into his mind. Her soft skin underneath his calloused hands, her gentle lips embracing his chapped ones, her soft, unruly hair that smelled so good.... Just thinking about it now made him blush immediately and he nearly missed the owl that crashed into the closed window.

Harry jumped as he heard a loud _crash_ and looked around widely. His instincts jumped back to the end of the war, his mind told him that a Death Eater had failed to attack him, but as he gazed towards the window, he almost laughed out loud. A disgruntled looking, unfamiliar owl was scowling through the glass, which it had thought to be open.

Harry allowed himself a moment to breathe as he wandered over to the window to let the poor bird in.

“I’m so sorry,” he laughed as he tried to relieve the beautiful owl of its ballast, only to get bitten in the finger. Harry winced, ripping the letter off the bird’s leg in the progress, almost succeeding in pulling the owl from the window sill and onto the floor.

“Sorry, girl,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

The owl glared at him and clicked its beak.

“Oh, you’re a boy?” Harry scratched his neck and looked at the male owl with an apologetic expression on his flushed face. “I’m so sorry. I was a bit distracted. Now I can see your masculine physique! Is truly impressive!”

If an owl could roll its eyes, this one would have done it right about now. Without accepting the treat Harry was offering, the slightly insulted owl batted his wings – not without punching the bespectacled wizard in the head once or twice – and took off as soon as possible.

A chuckle made him turn around. Hermione was leaning against the doorway, a huge smirk gracing her beautiful face. A nervous, yet pleasant tingle spread from his stomach through his whole body as Harry watched the brown-haired witch push away from the door and stroll over to where he was standing.

“That’s not how you compliment an owl, Harry,” she murmured, her brown eyes trails over his face approvingly and stopped at his lips.

“I was distracted,” he repeated stupidly. He was having difficulties breathing properly as Hermione leaned closer and stopped only a few painful millimetres away.

“I can see that.”

Soft lips touched his and all strength left him. He felt his bones go to jelly as his heartbeat picked up and thumped against his ribcage. His arms sought their way around her waist as if on their own accord, circling around her warm body, pulling her closer. Her fingers danced across his chest, over his shoulders, until they reached the nape of his neck. He could feel her soft skin as she played with his hair, brushed it aside and smoothed it back.

Her lips were even softer than he remembered them being. Moving gently over his, he felt her gasping breath waft over his cheek. The memory of their shared kiss was nothing compared to this.

Slowly, Harry moved back. His arms were still wrapped around her slender waist, resting at her hips. A soft blush enhanced Hermione’s perfect skin as he looked at her lovingly. He had to smile, watching she ducked her head shyly. She was the most adorable person alive and to have her in his arms, to _be allowed_ to hold her like that meant the world to him.

His right hand left her waist and slowly trailed up the side over her body until it reached her chin. One finger nudged at it, silently asking her to look him in the eye. He smiled softly as her sparkling brown eyes met his.

She sighed and leaned forward. Her lips touched the tip of his nose and she grinned as a breathy laugh reached her ears.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this happy and content around someone. Sure, she had been happy with Ron, but thinking back now, it had been something different. It hadn’t felt this pure and simply _good_ like this.

She bit her lip as she gazed into the emerald green eyes of her opposite.

She had never thought in a million years that she would one day be lucky enough to reach Harry’s heart. The constant speculations about his love life had been one thing, but seeing him with Ginny or Cho had been something different. She hadn’t understood the contempt that had rushed through her at that time, but now she knew. She had always felt something for the handsome wizard, whose arms tightened around her waist. She just didn’t know or even think about that he might actually feel the same.

He allowed himself a moment to just breathe. The beautiful scent that clung to her hair clouded his senses as he stood in the middle of the kitchen and just held her. He had never thought that he would one day be lucky enough to get to know what it felt like to have the most amazing and beautiful witch feel the same about him, have her wrap her arms around his neck and shoulders, snuggle into his chest and kiss him with so much love that it was difficult for him to keep standing.

The minutes passed as they stood in the room, arms around each other, heads resting on hair and chests, and eyes closed, just enjoying the moment for what it was, before Hermione felt something dig into her bum.

She frowned and wiggled around slightly. Harry loosened her grip on her, unsure what he had done wrong, just for the insecurity to turn into confusion as Hermion’s eyebrows rose towards her hair line.

“Aha!” Whirling back around, her hair swished into Harry’s face, nearly knocking his glasses off of his nose. “Oh, sorry,” she laughed embarrassedly and leaned forward swiftly to press a kiss to his lips.

Almost immediately, Harry’s heartbeat picked up again. It felt amazing being allowed to kiss the other just like that. A slow grin spread over his face as he watched his girlfriend tug something out of his hand.

“What does the letter say?” she asked, pointing and the crunched up piece of parchment he had completely forgotten about. “The one that led you to insulting an owl?”

A blush as bright as a Weasley’s hair darkened his face as he snatched the letter away from Hermione’s hands. He tried to ignore the grin that graced her face as he looked at the letter in his hands, broke the seal and opened it.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_I am pleased to inform you that you have been chosen as England’s National Seeker._

_The first official practice is tomorrow at eleven am, following by the next the day after._

_I look forward to finally see a whole team standing in front of me. Merlin knows it’s about bloody time...._

_Roger Stinicle, Captain_

Harry stared at the trembling parchment in his hands. He couldn’t believe his luck! He was a player of the National Quidditch Team of _England_? His breath caught in his throat as he read the words over and over again. This wasn’t a joke. He had really made it onto the team! He would be able to play Quidditch again! He would be able to do the one thing he loved the most!

But... he hadn’t played since his sixth year at Hogwarts. He wasn’t an experienced player. He didn’t have years of experience in the professional league. The other players were a lot older than him. All of them had been a member of a professional team for at least one season before! What did he have? Six years of school Quidditch, one of which he had not even been allowed to play for most of the year.

He groaned loudly and let his head fall back. He couldn’t believe how stupid he had been to even try out! Of course they would have chosen him! Of course they would want to have _The Saviour_ on their team! After all, it was kind of intimidating for their opponents to have someone like him playing against them.

Hermione watched as multiple emotions washed over the wizard’s face; interest, confusion, happiness and then sadness. She frowned as his hands clenched onto the piece of parchment that he was still holding in his trembling hands.

“What does it say?” she asked tentatively. Harry’s head jerked upwards, his eyes widened, as if he had forgotten that he wasn’t alone in the room.

“It’s a letter from Stinicle,” he answered quietly and let his gaze drop onto the yellowish parchment, once again reading every word of the letter, taking its meaning in. He couldn’t accept the offer. He just couldn’t. He was sure that he only got the spot because of his name and not his talent.

He felt awful. He didn’t even want to imagine how the other candidates might feel, now that everyone knew that he got the best spot once again. It was just like right after the war. Kingsley had not even waited until after the final funeral was over. He had pulled him to the side just as the coffin had been carried down the rows of people to tell him that he would be welcomed with open arms if he decided to join the Ministry’s Auror department.

Not only had he looked like a complete and utter idiot, who thought he was better than everybody else for not really attending the funeral, but after he had told the Minister that he did not graduate from Hogwarts yet, he had also been brushed off immediately.

 _Ah, don’t worry about that minor detail, Harry_ , he had said. The minor detail of having a certificate that proved him to be an adult wizard who knew his spells was a major stumbling block for those who had left Hogwarts for their last year because of everything. Those wizards and witches, mostly Muggleborns, had to go back to Hogwarts and attend their last year in order to pass the NEWTs and prove that they could do what was asked of them. Harry Potter on the other hand....

“What does he say?”

Harry blinked and looked back up from the letter, once again completely distracted by his depressed thoughts.

“I’m on the team.” His voice was oddly emotionless. He didn’t move as Hermione gasped and threw herself into his arms.

“I’m so happy for you!” she exclaimed and pressed a kiss onto his cheek. “I knew you could do it. Didn’t I tell you? You deserve that spot!”

“No, I don’t.”

Hermione paused and leaned back, her arms still circled around Harry’s neck. Her eyes were wide with confusion as she watched his every move. “What makes you say that?”

The black-haired wizard sighed. He didn’t know how to explain it to Hermione. She had always believed that he managed to do all the stuff he had done because of skill and talent, but he knew better. He knew that there had been an embarrassingly huge amount of dumb luck involved, as well as a lot of help from other people, namely Hermione. She had been the brain behind his every move. He had merely lacked the instinct of self preservation to not do all the stupidly dangerous stuff.

“I just don’t,” were the words that that tumbled out of his mouth.

Hermione merely gaped at him. She couldn’t believe it. There he was, holding the ticket to one of his dreams in his hand – literally – and he just decided that he wasn’t worth it?

Huffing, she let go of him, immediately missing the warm skin to skin contact. The shiver that went through Harry made her feel slightly better, though. He felt the same.

She blinked rapidly to keep her thoughts from straying into non-productive directions and put her hands onto her waist, glaring at the sheepish looking wizard in front of her.

“Now, you listen to me, Harry James Potter!”

Harry winced slightly as he heard his middle name. She rarely used all three names, except for when she was really angry with him. He felt himself shrink back and get smaller as the fierce looking witch started to talk herself into a frenzy. Her hair seemed to buzz with electricity, flying into every direction at every jerky move; her eyes were blazing with an inner fire; her cheeks were flushed with a beautiful pink that highlighted the sparkling brown of her eyes.

He blinked languorously and watched her with a secret smile as she started to walk up and down in front of him, gesturing wildly. He had to duck out of the way at least three times in order to keep her from straight out punching him in the face. He was sure she wouldn’t have appreciated that and he didn’t want to worry her about his wellbeing.

The time passed and Hermione went on and on about what was supposed to be a vindictive and an encouraging speech, which Harry had completely missed. He blushed slightly as his best friend and girlfriend stopped walking, turned towards him and took a deep breath. Her face was glowing nicely and her hair was all over the place.

“So?”

Harry blinked. “So what?”

“You didn’t hear a word I say, did you?” she deadpanned and narrowed her eyes dangerously as she watched her opposite laugh awkwardly and scratch his neck.

“Well....”

Hermione groaned loudly and threw her hands up in a defeated manner.

“Let me put it into easily understandable words then,” she sighed and threw him a glare. He had the decency to at least wince. “You will accept that spot. No excuses!”

“But –“

“No buts!” And with that exclamation, she huffed, shot him a last glare and marched out of the kitchen, leaving a softly smiling Harry behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!
> 
> Until next time - see ya! :D


	16. Dramatic Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go - the next chapter! Enjoy reading :D

**Dramatic Changes**

James groaned. He was freezing. And uncomfortable. Why was he freezing? And uncomfortable?

He took a deep breath and immediately felt a sneeze build up inside his nose. _Oh no_ , he thought as he hurried to raise his hand to cover his mouth, only to find it stuck underneath his body. The sneeze shook his entire being and miraculously whirled up even more dust. He coughed and lowered his head in order to breathe through his clothes... which were even more covered in dust than the floor he was lying on.

How the hell did that happen?

Grumbling and oddly off-centre, he managed to somewhat find his way onto his bum. He leaned back against something even more uncomfortable, but at least he was somewhat upright now. Judging by the lack of sight, he figured that his glasses were still hidden in the tons of dust and grime he had just taken an involuntary bath in and, out of pure habit, he mumbled the summoning charm, only to find that nothing happened.

 _Bugger_.

Could his day get any worse? Waking up in dirt, sneezing and inhaling even more dirt and being turned into a bloody Squib after a life filled with magic and....

He froze.

Frowning, he started to pat around. The wooden floor felt old and rough. Holes were all over the place, probably consequences of animals having their way with the natural material. Dust and grime covered the ground; he could feel how his fingers were brushing it from side to side.  

 _That... isn’t normal_ , an inner voice provided him with the already known knowledge that something was definitely not right. Why was he...?

And then it all came flushing back. He had to have fainted. He couldn’t explain it to himself otherwise. How else would he have ended up on the disgusting floor of his old house?

...He still was in his old house, wasn’t he?

Squinting, he tried to take in shapes that made sense. His head had to have gotten a more forceful blow than he had thought because the shapes did not make sense at all. There were... things on the floor a few metres away from him and... at what looked like the doorway and... right next to him.

He frowned and reached towards the bulky object. It was covered in dirt just like everything else in this room, but its texture felt as if it had once been soft.

Raking his fingers through the matted material, he gasped. He knew this! He knew it because he had been the one to get it for Harry! The plush rabbit had been one of his favourites, alongside with a stag, a wolf and a pitch black, but very fluffy, dog. His little boy had always needed it near him whenever it had been time for bed. Lily or him had tucked him in, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders and nuzzling the soft nose of the rabbit against their son’s cheek. He had not been able to fall asleep without it.

A telling prickling in his eyes made his already blurry vision worsen even more. Cold tears were streaming down his face as he held onto the plush animal as if for dear life. That was the moment that, for the first time, he felt true despair wash over his. It poisoned every cell; it seeped into every part of his body, tainting it. He didn’t know what it do. He didn’t know how to go about things. Not having his magic had left him feel helpless and lost in an odd wa-

_Not having his magic._

The words echoed through his head, replaying over and over again. No. No, it couldn’t be!

He put the toy aside and scrambled onto all fours. His hands were ghosting through the grime on the floor in search of his wand. He had to have it _somewhere_. It had been ages that he had used it, seeing that he was a ghost and he didn’t really need to get anywhere quickly or needed to make thinks float. After all those years though, he had always kept the ghost version of his wand with him. Habit.

After minutes of frantic searching, his fingers hit against something cold on the floor. He grabbed onto the inconspicuous looking piece of wood and swished it through the air.

Nothing.

His breathing fastened as he raised his wand yet again.

“ _Lumos!_ ”

Nothing.

That couldn’t be! No! If he didn’t have his magic anymore, what did that mean for...?

“Lily!”

Gasping, he hurried to pick himself off the floor. Using the broken doorway as support, he pulled himself onto his feet. He didn’t even register that he didn’t go straight through the wall. The still wet tear tracks were cooling his still too chilly face, but he didn’t pay them any attention either. He only had one thing in mind.

_Find Lily._

*~*HP*~*

The first thing she felt was dizziness. Everything seemed to move way too fast and if she felt that with her eyes closed, she didn’t want to know what it looked like if she opened them. Turning her head made her retch. A stone dug into her side as she hurried to turn sideways, gasping for air to keep the nausea at bay.

She didn’t know where she was, but then again she was too scared to actually open her eyes to see for herself. One thing she knew for sure, though – the ground she was lying on did not feel like her son’s library floor.

After a couple of minutes of lying on her side, motionless, she took a deep and calming breath. Slowly, she opened her eyes, one at a time. It was dark. That much she could see.

She squeezed her eyes shut again as another wave of dizziness hit her. She had to have gotten an insane hit to the head if she couldn’t even open her eyes while she was lying on the floor.

Numbly, she groaned slightly and inhaled the cool and oddly fresh air. She wasn’t at her son’s house anymore; that was for sure. The rustling sound of leaves swaying in a cool breeze was a dead give-away. Also that she was lying on was felt like sand told her that she was somewhere outside, which didn’t make any sense.

Her eyelids twitched as she cautiously tried to open them. Tears began to gather in her eyes almost immediately, making her pause. Tears? Well, if she thought about it, she did remember a few times in which that had actually happened, but she hadn’t minded it in the past. Thinking about it now made her feel weird and oddly scared for some reason.

Her dirt crusted hands found a flat surface next to her which she used to pull herself up. Gasping, she leaned against the smooth underground, letting it further cool her down. She didn’t feel well. What she could make out of her surroundings didn’t quite stay in one spot but kept jerking from left to right and back again. It made the nausea come back and she whirled to the side just in time to keep from vomiting all over her front.

She gasped for air as her stomach calmed down again. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t right at all. Something was majorly wrong and that she couldn’t tell what it was only made her more anxious. She had to find out where she was and then what happened to her. Where was James? Was he alright?

Her hand rubbed over her eyes and pushed a few stray stands of hair out of her sweaty face. She could see a huge building about twenty metres to her left and multiple dark shadows that looked like trees. Dimmed lights made everything seem much bigger than it was as she stared up at the old looking building. An odd sense of déjà-vu hit her. She’d been here before.

Trembling slightly, she slowly let go of the smooth stone she had used as support to keep her upright. Unsure steps led her over cobble and grass over to the old gothic building with huge colourful windows and surrounded by trees. It was an old church.

Memories trickled into her mind; a walk through the village, feet making fresh snow crunch, carols being sung in the distance, warm light emanating from fairy lights....

She whirled back around and really saw were she was standing for the first time. A graveyard. Tombstones were littered all over the place. The newer ones were organised in rows, the older ones  looked a bit wonky. Flowers, some wilted, some fresh, decorated the graves, candles illuminated the otherwise pitch-black scenery.

Her feet moved on their own accord as she stumbled back towards the spot where she had woken up just moments ago. Two white tombstones greeted her. Fresh flowers, two candles and a wreath had been placed in front of the marble stones; the candles making it easier to read the inscriptions.

She gasped and clasped her hand over her mouth as she read the names.

 _James Charlus Potter_ and _Lily Marie Potter, née Evans_.

And then she knew what had happened. They had been too late. The ritual hadn’t worked.

She was back in Godric’s Hollow.

*~*HP*~*

He ran through the streets of his home village, stumbling every few steps. Light was shining out of some windows of the houses he rushed past, a silent evidence that life did move on after Halloween 1981.

It was slowly getting darker, as he stumbled over the cobbled streets. His shoe caught a loose stone, making his strip. He flinched as his hands hit the ground. Small, sharp stones dug themselves into his palms, leaving them throbbing and hurting.

Picking himself up again, he hurried towards the centre of the village. He didn’t have any idea where Lily could be, but he had a feeling that she had to be around _somewhere_.

The stone statue of the war victims transfigured itself into the familiar memorial that had been placed here the day after Voldemort had vanished. His stone self had one arm wrapped around Lily, the other was supporting a little Harry, who was grinning widely and playing with his mother’s hair. The smile on Lily’s face as her stone image looked down and right at him, as he stood there, gasping for air, was gentle. He looked like a right troll next to her.

 Looking around the square now that the sun was setting was a bit disturbing. Pictures of scenes ran through his mind; a walk late at night, hand in hand, stealing a kiss every now and then....

“Lily!” he yelled, turning around on the spot. “Lily!”

The wind picked up slightly and broke through the leaves, making them rustle loudly. A branch creaked and he whirled around. He didn’t see anything past the bright lights of the old fashioned street lamps. The dark cemetery behind them remained eerily gloomy and without any light.

“James?” a soft voice called out cautiously.

The black-haired wizard gasped as he heard her voice. He would recognize it anywhere.

“ _Lily!_ ”

He started to run; around the creepy and slightly disturbing statue that would forever remain frozen in time, underneath the old street lamps and directly towards the graveyard’s crooked gate. He didn’t take the time to stop and open it like any normal person would. He rushed towards it, took a deep breath, hoped that some instincts from his Quidditch years had been ingrained into his brain and jumped.

Halfway over the obstacle, he felt his right foot catch onto the wood of the gate and he fell, face first, into the mud.

“Oh my God,” he heard the exclamation before he heard her hurried footsteps.

He groaned as small hands gripped his shoulders and tried to pull him out of the wet dirt. His hands slipped on the ground and he very nearly facepalmed the mud once again. Scowling, he sat up and looked at his hurt hand, which was now dirty as well. Brilliant.

The next thing he knew was that he was being tackled to the floor, having his back also covered in mud.

“Lily?” his arms raised almost as if in trance and circled around a slim waist he hadn’t felt in decades. His breath caught as his thoughts caught up with what happened. He pulled the sobbing redhead even tighter into his embrace, crushing her against his chest, all the while mumbling incoherently into her soft hair.

“Oh, James!” Tears slid down his neck.

She couldn’t believe it. After all this time she was finally able to hug him again, to be with him again. She couldn’t believe her luck. Her heart was nearly jumping out of her ribcage as she squeezed the living daylights out of the man underneath her, who was shielding her from the dirty surroundings.

“Are you alright? What happened? Are you hurt? Where were you?” Question after question tumbled out of her mouth without giving James the chance to answer them. “Are you okay?”

James pressed his lips onto Lily’s forehead for a few seconds and just enjoyed the feeling of her hair tickling his nose, her soft skin under his chapped lips, before he pulled away and gently pushed her off of him. Grumbling, he slowly sat up and rubbed his chest.

“I think I just broke a rib or two, but other than that... how are you? Why are you here? No, wait, I know why you’re here. I’m a Squib, Lily! A bloody Squib! This whole mess turned me into a freaking Muggle and I can’t do anything about it!”

Lily listened silently as her husband started to rant. His dirty and curiously bleeding hands were flying through the air as he gestured wildly. His black hair, so much like Harry’s, was pointing into every direction, just like always. His round glasses that were sitting on his nose kept sliding down, just like they always used to, and his beautiful hazel eyes sparkled with life like they had had roughly twenty years ago. He looked like he had looked the night of Halloween.

James paused and blinked confusedly as a loud gasp pulled him out of his panic attack. He raised one eyebrow and couldn’t do much more than grunt as Lily, once again, charged forward and tackled him back to the ground.

“Oh, was that necessary, love?” he whined and looked up into teary green eyes. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“It worked,” Lily’s voice was barely a whisper as her gaze jumped from one hazel eye to the other, then to slightly parted lips and back to his eyes again. “It really worked!”

“What worked?” James asked blankly and jumped slightly as a loud sob escaped his wife. His eyes widened dramatically upon seeing tears well up and spill, wetting the soft ginger lashes as they brushed against soft, slightly flushed cheeks. He was completely lost. “Lily?”

“The ritual! It worked!”

The black-haired wizard didn’t understand a thing. Ritual? What ritual? Just as he was about to asked out loud, Lily’s trembling voice reached his ears. She was grinning widely.

“We’re alive!” she said, leaned down and pressed her lips onto his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DU-DU-DUUUUUUUUUN! IT WORKED! UGH I LOVE JAMES AND LILY! THEY ARE PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER! *goes into full-out Jily mode*
> 
> I hope you liked it!
> 
> Until next time - see ya! :D


	17. It Worked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy reading!

**It Worked**

With a loud _thunk_ , his sports bag fell onto the wooden floor as soon as he had stumbled through the door. He was absolutely knackered.

He had just had his first ever training session with the national team and Stinicle didn’t mess around. He had pushed them until they couldn’t even grab their brooms anymore. He had yelled himself hoarse with orders and screams and encouragements. His welcome speech alone had taken up about a third of the three hour practice, and he had been adamant to make up for it.

He was even fiercer than Oliver Wood.

Trudging towards the tea room, he tugged off his shoes and cloak on his way, littering the hallway with clothing item, ready to get tripped over.

The fire was burning, he noticed gratefully, as he pushed the door open. _Thank Merlin_ , he thought tiredly and let his body fall into the nearest chair, his heavy limbs dangling off its sides.  The flames were nice and warm, heating up the entire room. He felt his aching muscles relax under the warmth as he slowly drifted off to sleep, his exhausted mind giving way to calm darkness.

*~*HP*~*

Hermione heard the front door fall shut and looked up from an ancient looking book. It was the very same tome she had studied for the ritual, which had obviously not gone to plan. No matter how many times she went through the procedure, though, she could not find what mistake they had made. For once, she didn’t have an answer to a throbbing question, a question that she needed to have answered immediately!

She didn’t know where Lily was and she didn’t know if she was alright. What if the faulty ritual had somehow managed to hurt her soul? Maybe their mistake had been fatal and she was no more?

A cold shudder went through her spine as she thought about that. No, she had to concentrate on what was important and on what was fact! And fact was that she didn’t _know_ what really happened, so it wouldn’t do anybody any good to dwell on what ifs.

She needed to talk to Harry about what they were supposed to do now. She had a feeling that if they were able to find Lily, they’d find her in Godric’s Hollow. She wanted to check and she knew that once she had told the bespectacled wizard about her idea, he would jump up as soon as possible, drop everything and apparate into the village without looking back.

With a heavy sigh, she gingerly closed the thick book and picked it up. Wrapping her arms tightly around it, she stood up and made her way through the library and into the hallway.

Her gaze fell onto the bag lying by the front door. A shirt and leather gloves were poking out of its opening, one knee pad had made its way onto the floor. Hermione frowned disapprovingly and glared at the shoes and a discarded cloak, which were also littering the wooden floor.

Her hand covered her eyes, defeated, and she shook her head. _Boys..._

Stepping over clothing items as she went through the hallway, she slowly made her way towards the closed door of one of the smaller living rooms. Flickering light was shining through the small space between door and floor, telling her that at least the fire was burning. Gently and cautiously, as to not make a sound, she pushed the door open and was greeted by a sight that had her clasp her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

There, on the couch in front of the fire, lay none other than Harry James Potter, saviour of the wizarding world and current Seeker of the National Quidditch team, one arm over the back of the couch, one dangling off the other side. One sock was lying on the carpet in front of the fire, the other one was still halfway on his foot. With his mouth opened and his eyes closed, the black-haired wizard gave a sight to remember.

A grin spread over Hermione’s face as she watched her boyfriend sleeping soundly, clearly passed out because of the practice he had been at for most of the day. A swish of her wand told her, he had left the house roughly five hours ago.

She knew she had to wake him up. He would want her to. But seeing him like that, exhausted and literally passed out, she couldn’t help but entertain the thought of letting him sleep for a while. He hadn’t been able to get a lot of sleep lately, what with the nightmares that he got nearly every night, leaving him awake but dead on his feet.

A soft grumble pulled her out of her reveries and her brown eyes focused on her boyfriend, watching him stir slightly. He scrunched up his nose, making an absolutely adorable face of tired confusion.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from smiling. She just couldn’t help it! He looked so cute with his messy bed hair, his tired eyes blinking sluggishly and his glasses that were close to sliding off his nose altogether.

“Welcome back to the living,” she said softly and walked over to him. She leaned down and gently pressed her lips onto his warm cheek. “How was practice?”

Harry blinked tiredly and rubbed at his eyes. His glasses were still on his face, albeit somewhat crookedly, so he could only see half of her beautiful face clearly.

“Exhausting,” he yawned widely and righted his spectacles. “But good. What have you been up to? I can’t imagine you just sat here wondering about practice.”

Hermione chuckled and held up the book she was still hugging to her chest. “I’ve done some reading,” she said and put the tome onto the coffee table, so that Harry could see which one it was. She had had to fix its spine after letting it fall as the ritual failed, but she managed to put the pages back into the right order, although that had taken some hours.

Harry’s eyes focused on the decayed cover of the infamous book. It made him uncomfortable; seeing it lying innocently on the table, just within reach. He had to think back to what it had caused, looking at it now.

He swallowed.

A trembling hand reached forward and opened the book at a random page. Never having worked with it, he had no idea which part of it contained the information they had used a few days ago.

Small words were written on nearly every page. The black ink made the tiny and clean looking letters stand in brutal contrast to the yellowing parchment pages of the old tome. He figured the book had to be at least two centuries old, judging by its frailty.

“I had to fix the spine,” Hermione’s timid voice echoed through the room and Harry looked up, raising his eyebrows. “During the ritual, you know, when your mum collapsed?”

He nodded, not letting his eyes stray away from her face.

“You collapsed as well. I didn’t see that coming. Obviously,” she added weakly and blinked up at Harry’s bright eyes. “I dropped it and it sort of went everywhere.”

Harry’s lips twitched as he watched his girlfriend’s cheeks starting to colour. Just thinking that word – _girlfriend_ – in the same context as Hermione made him feel lightheaded; in a good way. A very good way.

“Did you find something?” He forced himself to focus. It didn’t do anyone any good to start swooning over how perfect the young witch looked with her pink cheeks, her curly hair and the enthusiastic sparkle that made her eyes shine even brighter than... okay, _focus, Harry_!

“No,” Hermione made an apologetic face as Harry deflated immediately. “But this whole thing got me thinking....”

The raven-haired wizard sat up straight as he heard those words. Everything that got Hermione thinking would end with a perfectly logical solution that would work within an instant. It always had – whether it had been about an essay that was due in one week or during the time they had been on the run. Hermione’s brilliant mind always worked wonders when nudged into the right direction and, seeing that the young woman was simply a genius, that mind was constantly nudged whenever she started to think about something in particular.

Hermione smiled softly as she watched Harry’s slouched form gain some energy back upon hearing the hope in her sentence. Inhaling deeply, she turned more towards the wizard.

“You know how Lily told us that James was still waiting in Godric’s Hollow because he transferred some of his magic onto her, so she could leave their place of death?” Hermione waited patiently, if a little smug, for Harry to nod quickly.

“The bond magic tried its best to pull her back to him all those years and it never succeeded because your dad was strong enough to keep it severed. Yet, as the years passed, he got weaker, which is only understandable. I’m actually quite surprised that he managed to hang on for nearly two decades.”

Harry felt his chest swell with pride upon hearing her words. He had always known that his parents were strong people. Not only had they had the strength to not lose their minds when they had found out about the fate of their son, but had kept their heads cool and sorted. They had spent months over months hidden and cut off from everything they had known, and in the end they had faced Lord Voldemort himself, knowing the complete and utterly brutal truth that they would die trying to protect him.

They were his heroes. Had been and always would be.

Hermione watched him think about what she had just told him. They were all things he had already known, but she also knew that sometimes he needed a gentle push into the right direction.

A smile crept onto her face as she watched realization light up his eyes.

“She got pulled back,” he mumbled softly and raised his eyes to find a knowing smile on Hermione’s face. “She’s in Godric’s Hollow.”

The witch nodded and leaned forward to pick up the thick book. Both of them bounced up and down slightly as she let the heavy tome drop onto her lap.

“I checked everything we did during the ritual more than once – before and after it went wrong. I didn’t find an explanation to what exactly happened. There were a few passages that explained what could happen if you mispronounced certain parts of the spell or you misplaced some of the ritual ingredients that you put onto each end of the star, sure, but we followed the instructions as we were supposed to. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

Pushing a strand of stubborn brown hair out of her face, she clasped her hands around the edges of the book. “Everything went according to plan.”

Harry blinked confusedly.

“But that can’t be. Something _has_ to have gone wrong. Why else would both my mum and I have collapsed? There has to be a reason for it, right? I mean, we used my blood for this whole thing, so I was the catalyst. I was strongly connected to Mum throughout the whole ritual and the spell used my magic to bind her to the pentagram...”

“It didn’t.”

Black eyebrows twitched and pulled together over green eyes. “What do you mean, ‘It didn’t’?”

“Your magic was part of the whole procedure, that’s true. That’s why we used your blood. Magic isn’t something that you can grab and bind onto something corporal; it needs an intermediate to be controlled like that. Usually that’s a wand, but this time it was your blood, that’s right. The ritual only didn’t just use your magic, but Lily’s as well. Lily, although she isn’t a living being anymore, still has magic inside her body, but since she has been away from the origin of the Death Bond, her magic was draining out of her. James’ magic fused with hers, keeping her in your proximity.

She told us that she could feel the bond’s pull get more powerful as your dad’s magic got weaker. What I want to say is,” she said and looked Harry straight in the eye, “that your dad’s magic collapsed during the ritual that was supposed to help him get away from the Death Bond’s origin. The bond snapped, fusing him to Godric’s Hollow and pulling Lily right along.”

Harry blinked numbly at her as he took her words in.

“Nothing went wrong, Harry. The ritual worked. Just not at the right time. They’re both in Godric’s Hollow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! I'm working on the story again, so if nothing jumps in the way (as per usual), I should be able to update on a regular basis in the future as well.
> 
> Until next time - see ya! :D


	18. Bad Memories, Mud and Rain Drops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY! :D There you go! Next chapter! Enjoy reading :)

**Bad Memories, Mud and Rain Drops**

James sputtered and stared back at his weeping wife. What in the bloody name of Merlin’s freshly washed underwear was going on? Had she lost her mind? Did she get a hit against her beautiful head that made her go all loopy on him?

Hazel eyes narrowed as a muddy hand rose and pulled bright red hair away from a smooth looking forehead. No wound. No bruise. His frown deepened as Lily’s slim hand tried to swat his dirty one away without really wanting to let go of his neck. His mud-covered fingers had successfully smeared wet dirt into her once clean hair, but he ignored her annoyed huffs. Her weird wiggling motions only succeeded in her arms coming dangerously close to his head and nearly knocking his glasses off his nose.

“Are you quite alright, Lily flower?” he asked, watching her through concerned eyes. “Did you hit your lovely head or something? Is it the magic that tinkered with your brain?”

A sad look overcame his youthful face as he came to a sad conclusion. “Did you forget why we are here? Oh, love, we are dead.”

Red hair flew through the air as the grinning witch in front of him shook her head violently from the left to the right. This only worried him even more. He didn’t know what he should do. How should he know how to act around people that had lost it? He never had to! _Oh, bloody hell_ , he thought, panic rising in his stomach. _Where is Remus when you need him?_

“You don’t get it, James,” Lily took hold of her husband’s face, holding it as if it was something so fragile that it might break at the lightest touch. “I was with Harry, and he and Hermione – lovely girl by the way. Harry definitely takes after me in the good taste department – had this idea that we could try this one ritual that would break the Death Bond and for that they needed to acquire loads of illegal stuff! Not that I didn’t try to keep them from doing anything illegal! I really did try, but, well, Harry is pretty stubborn – who would have guessed – and he actually went and got himself involved with _criminals_ just to help us, and, _Merlin_ , all the things that could have gone wrong!”

James couldn’t do much more than stare at his wife, his mouth hanging slightly open. Smart Lily Potter was sitting on his lap, gesturing wildly, her eyes shining, her cheeks flushed and clumps of dirt flying out of her hair. How did her hair get dirty? _Huh_.

He didn’t really understand much of anything about what the witch was ranting about, but he did have the brain to blink and close his mouth just as she took a deep breath and focused her sparkling gaze on him again.

“So,” he said, trying to at least seem as if he had paid attention during the last couple of stressful minutes, “Harry, Hermione and you did a ritual that somehow... what? Brought us back from the dead?”

Good thing he listened to her when she had attacked him earlier.

“Exactly!”

A frown crept onto James’ face, his eyes narrowing. How was he supposed to tell her? “Lily,” he said hesitantly, not wanting to disturb or frighten her, “Lily, love, there is no ritual that can bring people back from the dead.”

Silence followed as James studied his still glowing wife. His heart gave a mighty jerk as she started laughing. She just started laughing, as if this wasn’t anything serious to worry about. “Lily?”

“I know that, James, or at least I thought so, too, until a few days ago.”

She grinned and forced herself to calm down. She had to make him see, she had to make him understand that this was something real, that they were really and truly _alive_ , that there was a ritual that actually managed to bring people back from the dead!

“There is a ritual, an ancient one, that manages to do just that! I never thought it possible. Surely not even Dark Magic could reverse death, but that ritual did. I don’t know how and I don’t know why. I just know that it did and that we are both breathing. I don’t even know whether that ritual is illegal or not. Well,” Lily frowned and tapped her bottom lip with her finger, “it probably is because Harry and Hermione had to get some pretty intense ingredients and if this whole thing would have gone wrong, I don’t know if Harry....”

Her voice trailed off as she stared into thin air. She was seeing things before her inner eye that James could not even begin to imagine. Her forehead lay in small wrinkles, and as her chin started to wobble slightly and her breathing became faster, he put his hand onto the side of her neck just as he always used to, right above the spot where he could feel her heartbeat.

He froze.

He could feel her heart beating! A gasp escaped him, succeeding in drawing Lily’s attention back to him. His hazel eyes widened as he stared into her emerald green ones. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t _think_.

“I told you,” the red-head whispered softly, the most beautiful smile on her plumb lips, as leaned closer and gently pressed them onto his unmoving ones, kissing him as if for the first time.

*~*HP*~*

Harry grimaced as he felt the Pepper Up potion slowly run down his throat. That stuff was simply disgusting. To think that people just went, threw animal bits into boiling water as if they were just cooking a soup and decided that it would be an amazing idea to drink that slimy, foul smelling concoction afterwards was beyond him. It was probably because of that missing piece of intuition that he had never got the hang of potions, at least not really.

Sure, good old Slughorn would have had a different opinion, but if Harry was honest with himself, not even the Half-Blood Prince, or should he say the _young Snape_ , could really help him to fully get what all those recipes and ingredients were for. Good thing that you could either just walk straight into the apothecary and buy whatever legal potion you desired, or at the very least you could ask Hermione nicely whether she would be willing to spend her afternoon throwing some slimy things together, some with, some without wings and legs, and brew him a potion or two. He had noticed that she was more willing to do so if he cooked her dinner afterwards, but that he would do even if she refused to brew him anything.

He bent down and picked up his wand that he had dropped to the floor as Hermione had pushed several potion vials into his arms with the clear instruction to down them all right away, so they wouldn’t lose more time than they already had.

With an elegant wave of his wand, the now empty bottles jumped into the air and followed Harry out of the room, down the stairs and into the kitchen where he found Hermione fretting over a certain beaded bag of hers. Unwelcome memories pushed themselves back into his mind as he watched her reach an arm right into the small pouch, having it vanish, as she pulled the bag further towards her arm pit. She had a concentrated frown on her face, her tongue poked out just a little bit between her pink lips.

Harry felt warmth creep up his neck onto his face. He would never get over the fact just how beautiful she was.

Hermione’s head jerked up as she heard a soft jingle of glass against glass and saw Harry stand in the doorway, the empty potion bottles floating his behind his back.

“All done?” she asked, not having a clue that he had just spent a few minutes staring at her.

Harry shook himself inwardly, nodded softly and stepped into the room. Another swish of the holly wand and the vials floated over to the sink and started to rinse themselves.

“Yeah,” he said and sat down next to her. She had pulled her arm out of the charmed bag and was hurrying through the room, picking up random things and throwing them into her pouch.

“What are you doing?”

Hermione straightened and pushed a strand of hair out of her face. A huff escaped her and he had to hide a grin as he saw how ruffled she looked. “I figured we have to be prepared,” she pulled an elastic from her wrist and leaned forward, gathering all of her hair into a ponytail before wrapping the elastic around and standing up again. “Lily and James don’t have a home anymore, so I thought it would be a good idea to pack some food and maybe a few fresh clothes. They have to be completely famished. After all, they haven’t eaten in nearly two decades!”

Harry winced. Of course, why hadn’t he thought of that? He had been so preoccupied with the thought that he would get to see both his parents again, be able to hug them and talk to them, that he completely forgot the most important things.

Dejectedly, he lowered his head and covered his face with his hands. A heavy sigh escaped him.

“It’s okay that you didn’t think about that, Harry.”A warm hand gently rubbed over his upper back as he felt her kneel down beside him. Her left hand touched his thigh, giving it a loving squeeze. “It’s understandable that you have your mind on other things. I would be all over the place as well if I were in your shoes. Actually, do you remember how I was acting right as we found my parents?”

The black-haired wizard chuckled softly as he remembered how flustered Hermione had been that day in Australia. She had given the ultimate sacrifice to be able to fully help and support him during that year on the run – she had taken her parents’ memories, so that Voldemort could not use them in order to harm her and, thus, Harry.

Days after the war was over, Hermione had pulled Harry to the side and told him in a hushed and slightly hesitant voice that she wanted to go and find her parents and hopefully restore their memories. Harry had not hesitated one second, as he looked her into the eyes which had sparkled with unshed tears, had taken her hand and had pulled her into her room at the Weasleys’ house, the one that she used to share with Ginny. The beaded bag had been thrown into the bottom of her Hogwarts trunk and Harry had fished it out of the suitcase, given it to Hermione and had said, “I don’t think we’ll need the books on the Dark Arts, though, right?”

Moments after Hermione had pulled away from the fierce hug she had given him, they had left the Burrow, Ron staying with his family. It had taken days of apparating and travelling through Australia until they had found who they had been looking for. Just a few metres away from the water, right at the beach, Mr. and Mrs. Granger had opened a small café for tourists. Hermione had been so overwhelmed that she had ignored Harry’s calls and had immediately thrown herself into her father’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably about how she had missed them and how she had finally been able to find them again.

Mr. Granger, not having any knowledge as to who this young woman who was lying in his arms, sobbing her heart out was, had gently managed to untangle her arms from his neck and had slowly taken a few steps back.

Utter horror had crept onto Hermione’s face as she realized what had just happened. Harry had been smiling apologetically at the witch’s unknowing father and had asked him to get his wife, so that they could all have a talk that would explain what had just happened.

Even now, months after this had happened, Hermione still blushed beet-red whenever either he or her parents mentioned that incident.

Harry chuckled and raised his gaze to meet hers. She traced her fingers over his cheek lovingly, a gentle smile on her lips.

“Come on,” she said softly and gave him a – too short in his opinion – kiss before she stood up and reached for her bag that was still lying on the kitchen table. “Let’s go and get your parents out of Godric’s Hollow.”

*~*HP*~*

His stomach gave a loud rumble as he picked himself up off the ground and reached down to pull his wife up with him.

“We have to find something to eat,” he mumbled, his hand absentmindedly rubbing the caked mud off onto his already dirty trousers.

There was one pub in the village, but without money they wouldn’t get anything from there and without magic they couldn’t get anything out of there without anyone noticing. He kept himself from rubbing his hands over his tired face at the last moment, remembering just in time how they looked like.

He groaned and turned around to his wife. Lily stood there, her hair ruffled and caked with mud – probably because of him, he couldn’t really remember anymore – and gave him a weak smile.

“We can’t very well steal anything,” she whispered and gazed over to the street light that was illuminating the entrance of the graveyard on which they were still standing. “All we can do is wait and hope that Harry and Hermione figure out where we are fast enough.”

“How about we try and apparate to where Harry’s living?”

The look Lily gave him had him deflating immediately. They didn’t have any magic left. She could feel it just as well as he could.

A scowl darkened James’ face. He knew she was right. He knew that they couldn’t so much else than wait, but that didn’t mean that he liked it. He wanted to do something! _Anything_! Just waiting here and hoping that they would be found seemed too risky. And too boring.

“Well,” he said, trying to lighten up the mood, “at least it’s not raining!”

Just as he had said that, thunder clapped over their heads and the first rain drops hit the ground. James couldn’t believe his bad luck.

“Great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!
> 
> Until next time - see ya :D


	19. The Broken Cottage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There is one part in this chapter that was directly taken from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. You’ll all know which one it is as soon as you see it. I don’t want to spoiler anything just yet. It’s highlighted in italic.
> 
> Enjoy reading!

**The Broken Cottage**

The cold breeze picked up and shook the bushes and smaller plants at the side of the main road that led through the cosy village Godric’s Hollow. Well, right now it wasn’t as cosy as it used to be many, many years ago, James thought bitterly, as he and Lily hurried through the town towards where he remembered their house to be standing.

Lily’s hand in his was warm, her twitching fingers only slightly cooler due to the cold rain that was splashing down onto them. His son and that girlfriend of his really needed to hurry up. The sun had set a long time ago and he was sure that he would have been able to see the stars if it weren’t for the dark clouds that took away off of the natural lighting.

Back in the day, just before Harry had been born, he and Lily had used to lie down behind their house on the speck on grass that wasn’t covered by flowers and watch the sky. Depending on their mood and how baby Harry had been behaving that day, they would either lie there, watching the clouds move past calmly or the stars that you could see perfectly well at night. Godric’s Hollow wasn’t that big a city to disturb the sky with light pollution and it was quite a distance away from any bigger city that could.

He heard Lily’s horrified gasp as they got close enough to see their destroyed home. As he looked up and followed her gaze, he couldn’t help but feel his stomach plummet towards the ground. He knew what their family home looked like now and that he remembered the circumstances that led to its state clearly didn’t help with the picture it showed them, but he couldn’t help but feel deep sorrow and utter horror as they neared the broken piece of their past together.

He had grown up in that cottage, as his parents had not wanted him to turn out like all of the other spoiled Purebloods that grew up in a mansion. They had one, but they had just never really used it.

His hand tightened its grip on Lily’s smaller one as they slowed to a hesitant walk until they stopped completely in front of the ruins of their house. He could feel Lily tremble next to him and he turned his head slightly to watch her stare up at what was left in front of them.

“Come on,” he said softly and tugged her forwards.

His thumb drew calming circles onto the back on her hand as his other hand reached forward and touched the decayed wood of what used to be a beautifully painted wooden fence. As his skin touched the mouldy material, a sign sprang up from the grass, sending pieces of it flying to the sides. Lily screeched and jumped backwards, pulling James along, who nearly tripped and sent both of them to the cobbled path beneath their feet.

“Bloody hell,” James muttered, his free hand zooming up, grabbing at his heart, which was beating double the pace it usually was. Or, he figured, the pace between the time when they had left the graveyard and reached the cottage.

He took a deep breath to calm both himself and Lily down, and leant forward slightly in order to be able to decipher what the sign said.

“ _On this spot, in the night of 31 st October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives_,” he read in a low and slightly trembling voice. Lily took his hand in both of hers and squeezed it softly. “ _Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family._ ”

A few minutes of silence followed as the couple looked at the sign that put their tragic life into merely three sentences. It was frustrating, yet oddly calming to know that there was still something to remind everyone of what evil Voldemort and his followers had caused, of how much pain the Dark Lord had managed to inflict on a whole nation, not just on their small family.

Lily inhaled slowly and let out a sad chuckle. “That’s nice, I guess,” her voice very faint over the continuous howling of the wind that was rattling at the already at risk to collapse cottage.

James’ mouth twitched as he fought the urge to smile his crocked grin. He felt the odd feeling of morbid, sarcastic humour that made him numb to any pain. “Yeah. It still feels as if they’ve turned the house into a museum for strangers to stare and gawk at, doesn’t it?”

A slim hand jerked upwards to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape the red-haired witch as her eyes sparkled and her cheeks warmed. “You’re kind of right about that.”

The grin his wife gave him made his stomach twist pleasantly, warming his whole body from the inside out. At least, that’s what it felt like, but the involuntary shudder he could feel run down his spine reminded him of the teeny-tiny fact that both of them were standing in a storm, soaked to the bone. Probably not the wisest thing they’d ever done.

Lily seemed to read his thoughts because, as if on cue, her whole body started shaking. She threw him an apologetic look and pointed towards the ruins that were once the most beautiful cottage she had ever seen.

“Should we get insight and look for a dry spot to stay? We can get a cold now, you know.”

Her hair was plastered to her face, the rain darkening the red strands, making her eyes stand out even more brilliantly. James raised his hand subconsciously and scratched at the back of his head. Lily bit her lip to keep from giggling. Merlin, how she had missed that gesture!

“I completely forgot,” a shy grin spread over his handsome, youthful features. “Where are my manners?”

Letting go of her hand, he cleared his throat, pushed his hair out of his eyes and bowed down in front of her. Still facing the ground, he stretched out his hand, palm pointing upwards towards the black and cloudy sky. “My lady, may I have this pleasure?”

“Why, of course, dear sir,” Lily giggled and took hold of her childish husband’s hand, whose fingers immediately intertwined with hers, keeping the raindrops from wetting them even further.

He might be an idiot sometimes, but he was _her_ idiot and if she was completely honest with herself, she wouldn’t have him any other way. She’d never tell him that, of course. No purpose in supporting that behaviour even more, at least not openly. At this moment, she just loved to see him this way – carefree despite the situation they were in, optimistic, even though he wouldn’t tell her he was, and, although he tried to not show her, at least the slightest bit excited to finally see his son again after all those endless years of waiting.

The world might be ending all around them, they might not have a house that had a functioning roof, they might be hungry, their kid might not find them in time, but they didn’t care for once. They were alive.

James bowed another time, pressed a soft kiss onto the back of Lily’s hand and pushed the garden door open with his foot. The sign was still proudly showing off their past, as they walked around it and towards their cottage, hoping to find at least one spot that would provide them with a bit of shelter until their son would come and get them.

*~*HP*~*

Harry felt the well known feeling of being squeezed into a too thin tube and pushed out the other end, right into a huge puddle that immediately soaked his shoes and jeans.

He glared up towards the sky which was black with dark clouds that were giving their best to drown the whole bloody village. The wind howled around him, messing up his wet hair, whipping the slightly longer strands against his cheek with so much force that he winced.

Godric’s Hollow was dark, cold and eerily empty. Of course, no normal person would leave the house in this weather, but he couldn’t see one ray of light shine through the multiple windows in the houses that circled the statue in the centre of the village. The stone statue of himself in the arms of his smiling parents was black with rain.

A low _pop_ and a _splash_ next to him announced Hermione’s arrival. She groaned and wiggled one leg to get rid of the excess water.

“No use casting a drying charm,” the dripping wizard said as the now not so bushy-haired witch raised her wand. “We should probably just get out of the rain.”

*~*HP*~*

The floor boards creaked loudly as Lily put her weight onto them. Some of them were mouldy, some were even broken apart by animals or bits and pieces that were falling out of the ceiling due to the weather conditions over the years. The door was lying somewhere to the side, so the wind didn’t have a problem at all with blowing the wetness straight into their house.

Carefully watching every step she made, the ginger witch moved further into the hallway. It was a weird sensation that shot through her veins as she looked around herself, involuntarily comparing what her surroundings had ones looked like. She could still recognize every little detail – even the small spot right next to the spot where the front door had ones been was still – if barely – visible. She remembered her annoyance over it, as she had caught Sirius trying to rub the mud off of the light crème-coloured wall that had somehow moved from his boot onto it, successfully rubbing the soil into the textured wall.

A sad smile tugged at her lips.

She had managed to accept her past over the last years, but that didn’t mean that it made this moment any easier. Being assaulted by memories, both happy and sad ones, made it difficult for her to breathe. All she could think about was how much both she and James had lost and how both of them would never get it back.

A loud _crack_ made her jump around. Her hand jerked up, grabbing at her chest where she could feel her irregular heartbeat thumb against her ribcage.

“James!” she hissed and tried to get her breathing back to normal again.

Her blushing husband had entered the house right after her, but being James, he had not minded the unstable floor boards a second glance and had immediately crashed through one particularly mouldy board. His foot was stuck in the space beneath the floorboards, successfully trapping him.

Lily rolled her eyes and turned around, leaving her whining husband in the hallway. She decided to ignore the muttered series of curses that followed her into the kitchen and instead look around for a dry and hopefully slightly comfortable spot to stay and wait.

The table had been knocked over; one chair was laying in front of the opposite wall, crashed to pieces. Harry’s highchair was falling apart right in front of her eyes and as she looked at the furniture as a whole, she was surprised to still be able to tell what had been what. Moisture and temperature changes had had its toll on their house, and animals had done the rest.

She heaved a heavy sigh, her fingers brushed through her hair. The floor creaked loudly as she made her way through the room to peer into the cupboards, hoping against hope to find tins that contained food that might still be edible, but without any luck. She hadn’t really thought it possible in the first place, but still.

Lily felt oddly detached from the world as she stood in the once warm and brightly coloured kitchen. She tried to feel something, _anything_ , but she couldn’t bring her heart to react. Her brain told her that she was supposed to feel sorrow, horror and pain over what had happened, especially seeing the proof right in front of her eyes, but her heart wasn’t in it. It was as if she had lost all sense of living a long time ago, as if she had bled out everything that could hold her back, leaving behind only emptiness and acceptance.

She shook her head and brushed a knotted strand of red hair behind her ear. She couldn’t change how this house looked like, or how her life looked like, even, so it was no use dwelling on in.

Carefully setting one food in front of the other, Lily went through the decaying kitchen and back into the hallway. The staircase to her left led onto the first floor of the cottage that contained Harry’s nursery, their own bedroom and an additional bathroom. For a short moment, she thought about braving the stairs, but she couldn’t bring herself to see the destruction that was sure to greet her up there. The only thing that might be of interest was their wardrobe that still contained most of their clothes, but those probably did not look any better than the house itself.

James stopped trying to rip his leg back out of the floor to watch Lily as she stood just two metres away from him. Her eyes were fixed on the staircase that was blocked off by debris and a wooden beam which had pushed him to the floor all these years ago. He suppressed a sigh, not wanting to rip her out of whatever reveries she was trapped in at the moment, knowing that she needed to go through with them in order to find peace. It still hurt him to see the remains of his past that had seemed nearly perfect with his perfect wife, his perfect baby boy and his nearly perfect life, had there not been a war raging on outside their little secluded cottage.

He tugged at his leg again, this time with more force than before. He had managed to get in, so he could also manage to get out. A loud cracking and ripping sound had him stumble backwards. His face darkened as he glared at the piece of cloth that had once been attached to his pair of jeans and was now filling the hole in the ground that had just released his food.

He grumbled, annoyed, and scratched at his, now partially, naked leg.

Lily turned around, blinking confusedly, as if only now realizing that she was not alone with her thoughts. Upon seeing the state her husband was in, her hands shot up to cover her mouth, stifling a laugh.

“Oh, ha bloody ha, very funny,” the black-haired wizards mumbled. He pushed his chest out, just for the heck of it. A bloody hole in the ground would not diminish his manliness in the presence of his beloved wife.

Lily doubled over with laughter upon seeing James’ antics. Only he could he insulted by a rotting floor.

“That’ll take a while to fix,” his voice pushed through her loud laughter. James gazed around the destroyed hallway, intend on ignoring his attacked ego.

She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Fix it?” she asked, confusedly, the occasional giggle still escaping through her grinning lips. “Why would you want to fix a floor when the whole house is falling apart?”

James pushed a hand through his wet hair and looked at her as if she had just managed to grow a second head. “Where do you plan on living otherwise?” He shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched the most beautiful witch on earth perk up, her eyes starting to shine. “I don’t want to live in the mansion for the rest of my life, you know. I never really did like in there.”

Happy tears sprang up in her eyes, making them glisten beautifully. She laughed softly as she rubbed at her emerald orbs. “Do you really think we could manage to repair the cottage?” she asked, hope laced into her words. “With all the preservation charms put on it and all of the old charms and spells still woven into the walls?”

James shrugged, his grin widening with the second. “You are the one that read books upon books about spell work and charms. If you can put them up, then I’m sure you can get rid of them as well.”

A laugh bubbled out of her, lighting up the whole hallway. James watched his wife raise her hands and push her red mane out of her face, revealing her glowing skin. He couldn’t get enough of her, even after death. But just as quickly as the excitement had pulled Lily up, the horrible realisation dragged her under again. She didn’t have any magic left. She couldn’t break the charms that were holding the house together anymore.

She looked at James, green eyes wide; the desperate expression in them made him deflate automatically. She didn’t have to say anything in order for him to know what she was thinking. He had forgotten for one beautifully short moment that more than just their lives had changed, but that bringing them back from the dead, tricking Death himself into releasing them had made Nature react by taking their magic altogether. Keeping the balance and all that, he figured.

Dread flooded through his veins as his arms rose as if on autopilot, pulling the trembling witch into his embrace. They’d find a solution, he was sure of it, and even if that solution meant that they would live in Potter Manor for the rest of their lives.

“I know a few things about charms as well, you know?”

The embracing couple jumped and whirled around. James, acting purely on instinct, reached behind himself where he used to keep his wand stowed in his back pocket, but came out empty-handed. His stomach plummeted to the ground. It wasn’t there.

 _Well, of course it isn’t there, you idiot,_ he reprimanded himself and forced his head to lift to the doorway. He could make out two people standing in the shadows; one male, one female. They didn’t look threatening at all, but that did not have to say anything, he thought dejectedly, his mind automatically jumping towards a certain small, slightly pudgy man, who he had once called his friend.

“Hermione!”

James winced as Lily yelled the name right next to his ear. Who the hell was... _oh_!

His eyes narrowed slightly as he squinted through the dirty lenses of his crooked glasses. The woman, Hermione, and the man stepped forward into the hallway. The man snorted softly as he overstepped the hole in the ground that still had a piece of James’ trousers stuck in it.

“We’ll figure something out,” the voice of the man echoed through the room, forcing the black-haired wizard to focus on him.

The hair, the glasses, _the eyes_....

James did something he would later deny. He gasped. “ _Harry_?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S FINALLY HAPPENED! Merlin, took long enough, didn't it? xD
> 
> I have started writing the next chapter, but I can't guarantee that I'll be able to update next weekend. We'll have to wait and see :)
> 
> Until next time - see ya :D


	20. Not So Childish Needs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uni is about to start and I'm already starting to get stressed again D:
> 
> Sorry that it took me a while to get this chapter finished. The next few ones will take a while as well because uni will definitely f me up good... Not looking forward to that at all.
> 
> Anywayyyyyy - enjoy reading! :D

**Not So Childish Needs**

“ _Harry_?!”

James couldn’t believe his eyes. He gaped at the man standing in front of him. A smirk creepily similar to his own met him, the hair eerily familiar, and the eyes....

He was sure that his chin was nearing the ground in frightening speed, his eyes huge as dinner plates, as he just stood there, trying to formulate at least one coherent thought that differed from the constant _Harry, Harry, Harry_ stream that flooded through his brain.

His son looked exactly like him! He had the same hair, similarly unmanageable, he had the same smirk, similarly handsome, but the eyes were the thing that threw him off and thrust him back into reality. He could still see his little boy as if it was only yesterday; lying in his arms, his tiny, chubby hands wrapped around his finger, his rosy cheeks as soft as rose petals and his big, round emerald eyes gazing up at him with so much adoration that it was difficult to breathe. He would do anything for this little human being and he had given him everything that he had been able to.

Seeing him stand in front of him now, all grown-up, of age and capable of living on his own....

He didn’t need James anymore. He didn’t need him to dress him into cute little shirts and trousers anymore, he didn’t need him to sing him to sleep every night or read him his favourite tale. His baby boy was an adult and it was the strangest feeling that warmed James from the inside out – an odd sense of sadness upon seeing his son, but yet such a strong sense of pride and love that left him breathless and incapable of his body’s movement, as he jerked into action. He took two huge steps forward and drew his boy into the first hug in nearly two centuries.

He felt trembling arms wrap around him and pull him even closer – a bit hesitant at first, but sure and strong after the first two seconds of insecurity.

“Hey, Dad,” his son mumbled into his ear, his warm breath brushing against his skin. Harry trembled in his embrace and James tightened his hold on him even more; the instinct to shield him from every danger that threatened him from the outside world still as strong as ever.

“I’ve missed you, son.”

Hermione could barely hear the mumbled words that were clearly not meant for her ears. As she glanced over to the red-haired witch, she could see tears run down her pale cheeks. A soft chuckle escaped her as she took a deep, calming breath and wiped the moisture off of her face.

She could only imagine what it must feel like for Harry to finally be able to embrace his parents for what must feel like the first time. She had experienced a snippet of those feelings during their time in Australia, so watching the scene unfold before her eyes made her unwilling to interrupt it. It was clear that all participants needed these few minutes, but as she let her eyes travel through the ruined kitchen and up towards the ceiling that was more holes than wood, she knew they had to get out of the house. It wasn’t safe and on top of that it wasn’t dry. At all.

A shiver ran through her body as an ice cold drop of water hit her neck and ran down her back underneath her shirt.

She hesitantly pushed her wet hair out of her face and cleared her throat. Lily looked at her, smiling understandably. James opened his eyes and narrowed them slightly, clearly not wanting to let go yet, and Harry, whose back was facing her, tightened his hold on his father even more.

Hermione stifled a sigh as she once against watched the ceiling with worried eyes. Her brain told her that nothing could happen because there had to be spells to keep this building somewhat standing, but her gut told her something entirely different. Sometimes she cursed her Muggle origin, especially now.

Lily took pity on the restless witch and walked over to the two boys that meant the world to her. Running her right hand through Harry’s hair and resting her left on her husband’s back, she pressed a soft kiss onto each of their cheeks.

“Don’t you think we should get out of the cold?” she asked, smiling, as she watched her two boys untangle. Their hair was in similar disarray. She bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. “I don’t want you to catch a cold, sweetheart.”

A slow smile tucked at the corners of Harry’s lips as he slowly loosened his hold onto his father.

“It really is rather chilly, isn’t it?”

“Let’s get back home and into some dry clothes,” Hermione said and took a few steps forward. Resting her hand on Harry’s arm, she turned to the two people that had been dead just a few hours prior.

“We’ll have to side-along you two. I’m not sure whether your magic is completely gone or whether your core is merely depleted, but either way, you won’t be able to apparate. James wouldn’t know where to apparate to anyway, come to think of it,” she added softly, a thoughtful expression on her pale face.

She was shivering slightly, but Harry was pretty sure that she didn’t notice it. Both of them were used to getting cold as they had been on the run one whole winter. It didn’t matter how hard they tried to get that part of their lived out of their day to day routines, they never fully succeeded. In moments like this, though, he didn’t mind that much. He, as well, had to really focus in order to feel the cold waves that shot through his body.

Nodding encouragingly, Harry once again tightened his hold on James, but this time he forced himself to just hold onto his arm securely. He’d have to be able to turn in order to get them back to Grimmauld Place and he wasn’t that experienced in side-along apparition to accomplish that whilst hugging his dad.

He shot a glance at Hermione, whose hand was wrapped around his mum’s wrist. The young witch took a deep breath, smiled reassuringly and turned on the spot, disappearing with a low _pop_.

“You really like her, don’t you?” James’ soft voice reached his ear just before Harry himself turned, a picture of his house in mind.

He blinked. The older man watched him intensely, a soft smile playing along his lips, as he waited for his son to answer. Heat rushed through his body as he understood what James wanted from him.

His dad smirked knowingly and Harry was more than sure that he had the face colour of a tomato rather than a wizard right now.

“Yes,” he said softly, not able to fully look his father into the eye. He didn’t know why, but this conversation made him feel shy and very, very young.

He had never even dreamed about what it would feel like to talk about something like this with his father of all people. Sure, he had imagined having this conversation with Sirius, but his godfather was someone entirely different than James. He, Harry was sure about that one, would have made suggestive comments, wiggling his eyebrows whilst laughing at a stuttering, completely embarrassed Harry. His dad on the other hand....

It hurt to accept the fact that he didn’t know the black-haired man at all. Sure, he was his dad, he had given his life just to give Harry a chance at his, but he did not know him. Everything that connected the two of them was the first one and a half years of his life, which he couldn’t even remember. He felt guilty thinking that. He knew James would give up everything – hell, he _had_ given up everything – and Harry knew that he would do the same without even a single thought.

It was a disconcerting feeling. He didn’t know what it was like having a real family with real parents. He never had that. Of course, he had had the Weasleys, but how much at home did one feel if one addressed the parents of the house with Mister and Missus? Not very much. He had been a guest in their home, never fully being a part of it. He didn’t know how to act, now that he actually had a real and feasible chance of having a family of his own.

He didn’t know how to act. He knew how a son _should_ react, at least theoretically, but he had no experience whatsoever how _James’_ son should react.

A pressure that felt ice-cold closed in on his heart, squeezing it tightly.

He didn’t know his parents.

That truth hit him like a bludger. What should he do? How should he act around them? Would they think that they knew him because they had known him as a toddler? Would they think that they had the right to smother him with care because that was what they had done when he was one year old?

He was overwhelmed with the situation and did not know how to deal with it on his own. Hermione would probably know, but she was already at Grimmauld Place with Lily, waiting for them and probably wondering what exactly took them so long. Would she come back if they stayed here for some time longer? Would he like her to come back? No. No, he wouldn’t. This was his father, for Merlin’s sake, and he could do his best to get to know the man still waiting for his answer. He may not know how to act around him, but he damn well knew that he was a Gryffindor and Gryffindors didn’t worry when they could do something about the situation!

He took a deep breath and forced his heart to calm down. “Yes,” he said, his voice barely wavering. He had hoped we would manage to make it sound strong, but apparently he had been thrown out of balance even more than he had thought. “I really like her.”

Hesitantly, Harry gazed through his lashes, not fully able to directly look at the still smiling wizard standing before him. His heart thudded violently against his ribcage, threatening to jump right out at any second.

“She seems like a very nice girl,” James said and reached out to ruffle his son’s hair. He didn’t like seeing him so nervous and insecure around him, but he also knew that that behaviour was nothing but understandable. He didn’t know him and although James was his father, he hadn’t done anything that deserved Harry’s trust. He’d change that, that much was certain.

Watching his son relax slightly made him feel warm inside. They’d get there eventually. He was sure of it.

“Let’s not let the ladies wait any longer,” he bit back a laugh at the relieved expression on his son’s face. “We don’t want their wrath directed at us, now do we? I can tell you, never get on your mother’s bad side! She can get really frightening, that woman. Potter men tend to go after the frightening sort.”

He sneaked a glance towards his son, who had finally stopped fidgeting and was grinning knowingly. James snickered, reached out his hand and grabbed onto Harry’s strong upper arm.

“I knew it,” he muttered, earning himself a booming laugh from the other wizard as his son spun around and he was pulled into the still sadly not forgotten feeling of being squeezed into a way too thin tube that wanted to push his intestines out of his body.

*~*HP*~*

Harry sighed as he lay on his bed and gazed up at the white ceiling. Streaks of sunlight illuminated the room and blinded him whenever he felt like moving his head, which kept him from doing so in the first place.

They had been home for a few hours already. Upon getting into the house, James had flinched slightly, seeing where his son actually lived. He had been confused at first, but once he saw what Harry and Hermione had made out of the once dark and creepy looking house of a family full of pureblood supremacists, he’d eventually relaxed.

They had shown his parents to a bedroom containing a double bed, a big wardrobe, as well as an attached private bathroom. It had been the room in which Ron and Hermione had been staying whenever they had come over before they had moved in together.

Hermione had altered some of her and Harry’s clothes to fit the two wizards and they had left them to get comfortable and have some time for themselves.

Harry had not been able to sleep at all that night. Not that he had had a lot of hours left since they had arrived back at Grimmault Place in the early hours of the day. He was beyond tired, both emotionally and physically. He could barely lift his arm, let alone stand up, move over to his wardrobe and get dressed in something slightly more comfortable than jeans and a tee shirt.

Thoughts whizzed through his head, making it impossible for him to close his eyes and at least let the happenings rest until later that day, but having his dead parents sleep just one floor above from him was something he could not wrap his head around. He was confused, he was excited, he was more than ready to apparate right into their room and stay with them just talking, but....

All of this left him just the slightest bit scared. He was an adult now. He wasn’t the intimidated and bullied eleven year-old anymore who woke up in the middle of the night and cried out for his mum to hug him and his dad to tell him everything was just a bad dream. He was an adult that led his own life; he had a girlfriend, he had a house, he even had a job!

James and Lily had lost him when he was a mere toddler. Lily had spent all of her afterlife following him everywhere he went in hopes that he would be able to somehow tell that he wasn’t alone. James had spent his afterlife trapped in the very village in which their destroyed house still stood, which was being swarmed by tourists, who wanted to see where the unthinkable had happened, every day. He had been completely cut off from everything and everyone, left to his own thoughts and memories.

He didn’t know how they would be able to deal with the fact that their toddler son was now a grown-up wizard who didn’t need them anymore.

He had spent quite a lot of time trying to convince himself that he did not need them anymore, because he shouldn’t! He really shouldn’t want to run up into his parents’ bedroom and give into that strong pull of crawling into their bed just like Dudley had always done whenever he had had a nightmare. Back then he had been jealous that his cousin had something that he couldn’t have.

All he wanted was to be pulled into a warm embrace, being surrounded by his parents who were mumbling sweet nothings into his ears that would calm him down and finally let him have the peace of mind that he had longed for so long.

Merlin knew that Harry had tried to get his aunt and uncle’s affection, to allow him to be calmed down by them, hugged by them, but they had always kicked him right out of their room whenever he had as much as peaked into it. It hadn’t mattered whether they could see the tear trails on his terrified face. Aunt Petunia had screeched at him to get the hell out and Uncle Vernon had grabbed his too thin arm, pulled him down the stairs and had pushed him right back into his cupboard, not caring how many bruises his nephew would have come next day.

He had not tried it again.

Now, he wished he was younger so that he could somehow justify seeking his parents’ love and their warm embraces without looking like a needy adult who was so confused that he didn’t know how to handle his own life. He had managed well so far, so why did the arrival of two people mess him up so bad?

Slowly, Harry raised his left arm, his tired muscles screaming at the effort. His eyes still burned from the sunlight that was slowly crawling through the room, lightening it up bit by bit. He sighed softly as complete darkness enveloped him. His arm was successfully blocking out everything that snuck its way into Harry’s exhausted brain.

He lay there like that for what felt like hours, waiting, breathing slowly and regularly, before he eventually fell into a blissfully calm sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bloody hell, I'd be so confused if I were in Harry's shoes... How do you react when all of a sudden your once dead 21 year-old parents stood in front of you? 
> 
> I hope you liked it!
> 
> Until next time - see ya :D


	21. Confusion of Thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is double the normal length because I don't know when I'll be able to upload the next chapter. Uni will start again next Monday, which means that I'll be at uni from 8am til 6pm each day for the first three weeks and then my lab rotations will start, meaning I'll have to work like a normal person.
> 
> I hope to get the next chapter at least started and about down until the weekend but I really can't promise anything. Life's getting busy.
> 
> Without further ado - enjoy reading! :D

**Confusion of Thought**

It had been a right shock for James when they had arrived at the house earlier this morning. Once he had been able to breathe properly again after being pushed through the magical tube of suffocation, his lungs stopped functioning upon seeing their destination - the Blacks' old family home.

The Blacks were one of the few families that had always preferred to live in Muggle London - hidden by protection spells, of course - for whatever reason. James had never understood why the pureblood supremacist family wanted to live amongst _filthy Muggles_. It was completely beyond him. When he had asked Sirius about that, his friend had merely rolled his eyes and said something along the lines of, _"I haven't the foggiest. My family's mad, mate. I'm the only decent one out of the bunch."_

He had visited Sirius only once during the summer break between his second and third year at Hogwarts. The Blacks and the Potters had a connection thanks to his mum, so Lady Black had felt it necessary to invite the Potters' only heir. That with the prospect of a future alliance, it was a sure thing that she had more in mind than just allowing her son’s friend over for a sleep-over. She was pretty disappointed to find out that James appeared to be the one that supported Sirius' pro-Muggle opinions instead of diminishing them.

They were purebloods, after all. She had tried to make them see sense but had soon been forced to give up. It was probably James' fault that she had ordered her house elf to treat him like scum and that both she and Lord Black had made it their mission to make him as uncomfortable and unwelcome as possible; not directly showing him their dislike, oh no! That was beneath them. They were _aristocrats_ , after all. And _purebloods_! _Aristocratic purebloods_!

It hadn't really been that bit of a loss, to be completely honest.

It had taken him a total of seven letters and the better half of their trip back to Hogwarts to get Sirius to stop apologizing for his family.

James had known the stories Sirius had told him over the few years of friendship but having grown up in a house full of love and laughter had made it hard for him to imagine the circumstances that Sirius had had to deal with on a daily basis during the summer breaks and before Hogwarts. It also had made him realize why his best friend had always refused to return home for the Christmas holidays, which had been the start of their shared holidays at the Potters' residence.

Sure, later on the holidays turned into a _Why won’t you just move in_ -agreement that Sirius had accepted gratefully. The reasons for that, though, had not been that light-hearted. What parents would kick their son out of his home before he was of age just because he didn’t agree with their opinions?! He got mad every time he thought about that.

Being pushed out of the tube of magic and right into the front door of this exact same place was a bit disconcerting, yet, if he stopped and thought about it logically, he understood, at least somewhat. He did get that Harry could not possibly live in the ruin that had been their house, but why he had chosen this grimy, creepy hole with a lurking, insulting and probably insane house elf over the Potter Mansion was beyond him.

He should probably ask him some time soon. Maybe his son was more like him than he had originally thought from what meagre knowledge Lily had provided him over the years. Maybe his boy didn't like the manor, thought it too big and too impersonal. Merlin knew how much James agreed with that. Not to think of their other house, the one in France. _The summer home._

He had been there once during the summer holiday after his first year. His parents had thought it would be something special for him after completing his first year of magical education. Not that he had not been taught certain spells, runes and etiquette before, but, you know... _official_ magical education was a big deal! They had managed to stay there for a whole of one hour before his eyes had all but puffed up and he had started sneezing violently without being able to stop. Allergies sucked, man!

It had been a beautiful house, though; at least from what he could remember. Just a short walk away from the beach, big but not as big as the manor, and surrounded by flowers and bushes. Now that he thought of it, he wondered why his parents hadn’t just vanished the allergy-causing agent and replaced it with something else, but then his father had never really liked any other house than the cottage, so he probably talked his mother out of it. And figuring out what he was allergic to was probably one hell of a job and would have ended in vanishing everything living in a two-hundred-metre radius.

Pulling down the plain tee shirt that Hermione had given him, he glanced around the room carefully. Either his thirteen year-old self had been utterly blind even with his glasses on, or Harry had completely changed the interior of Grimmauld Place. He figured the latter. No normal human being that was at least somewhat sane would be able to spend more than a week in a gloomy house like this one had been.

The walls were covered in cream coloured wallpaper, contrasting the dark bed and wardrobe beautifully. In combination with the maroon carpet, James thought he knew where the inspiration had come from. A vase with colourful wild flowers stood on one of the bedside tables and the bed sheets were of a plain white, yet ultimately soft. Maybe someone had put a charm on them?

He ran his hand through his tousled hair and pulled the sheets away. The mattress was as soft as it looked. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. He had to be lying on clouds, there was no other explanation. The fact that he had pretty much spent his last twenty years sitting on cold earth or walking over paved streets could also be part of that non-existing explanation, though. If he allowed himself to think about it, that was probably the only reason. His and Lily's bed back at the cottage had been just as soft as this one was.

Sleepily, he turned his head to his right and smiled softly at his wife. Her red hair was spread over the pillow, making it look as if it was on fire. The strands were still slightly damp from the shower both of them had been eager to take once they had been left alone. Her skin was glowing in the stray rays of sunlight that managed to sneak their way through the thick, heavy maroon curtains that covered the window.

He raised his tired arm and brushed his fingertips gently against her cheek. A sigh escaped her before she turned her emerald eyes onto him.

"Hey," he said in a low voice. His fingers picked up a strand of red hair and started to play with it. It felt velvety against his skin.

"Hey," she smiled fondly, turned her head even more on the pillow and pressed a kiss into his palm.

"You look exhausted."

She really did. She had dark circles underneath her eyes that stood in a vast contrast to her pale skin. Her cheeks looked hollow, her neck too thin. She chuckled softly and rolled onto her left side, so that she would be able to directly look at him.

"You do too."

James shrugged and continued to play with her hair.

They lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Lily exhaled loudly, drawing his attention back from her hair.

"How are we supposed to go on from here?" Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. James had to totally focus in order to not miss anything.

He didn't have to ask what she meant because that question had ghosted through his head for the better part of the day, always sounding slightly different, but always meaning the same thing.

He didn't get an opportunity to answer, though, as Lily continued speaking softly.

"I mean, we haven't been there for him for most of his life."

"Don't say that," James hurried to say as he saw unshed tears glistening in her bright eyes.

"But it's true!" she exclaimed and pushed herself up into a sitting position. "We might have been there in somewhat of a ghost form, but Harry never knew! He didn't need us. He got along quite well on his own, and he had his friends and the Weasleys to keep him company. How are we supposed to act now? I mean, look at us!"

Her arms whizzed through the air excitedly as she talked herself into an upset frenzy. James blinked up at her, letting her get it all off her chest. He knew her and he knew that she would feel this sadness and insecurity for a very long time if she didn't get the chance to talk about it, even if that talk turned into a one-sided conversation.

"All of a sudden we're alive again. Just like that," she snapped her fingers to emphasise her point.

James had always thought that habit was really adorable. Usually, if you were dealing with a panicked or upset Lily Evans, you wouldn't dare to call her adorable. Her hair might fly everywhere, her eyes might start to shine with worry and her nose might start to form these cute little wrinkles, but under no circumstances were you to call her adorable. So he didn't. But he definitely thought it and couldn't stop himself to a let a small smile creep onto his face.

"We are nearly the same age, James! What son wants parents that are the same age as him?"

That question wiped the smile off his face. He hadn't even thought about that. Sure, he was worried that Harry might not want to get to know him or might somehow blame him for not being there when he had needed him the most, but he had not even thought about their age difference. Now that Lily had quite brutally pushed him into that direction, he as well started to worry.

Lily and he might see him as their son as they always had. For them, it didn't matter whether Harry was a toddler of one and a half years or an adult of nearly twenty years. He would always remain their son. But what did _he_ feel? Would he think that even though he theoretically knew they were his parents, he would allow them to build up a friendship at the most? Would he be mad if his son wanted to merely be friends? No. Would it bother him? Yes. Would he try to convince Harry that he should accept them as his parents?

James sighed. He knew the answer to that one as well. If Harry told them that he didn't want anything to do with them, they would leave. Not without a thorough discussion first, of course, but in the end they would leave if he wanted them to. They would send him a letter every week or so and ask Hermione for regular updates, but they would never ask anything of Harry that he wasn't willing to give or do.

Lily watched the emotions playing on her husband's face. He had come to the same conclusion as she had. They couldn't ask Harry to act like a son just because his parents were alive again. They would never stop acting as parents, but they could not ask him to learn how to act as a son just to do them a favour. Maybe time would be on their side just this time and somehow make it all work out?

"What should we do?" James asked timidly, his eyes focused on the bedding.

"There's nothing we _can_ do, is there?"

Lily pushed a few strands of wild black hair out of his handsome face and placed her hands on both of his cheeks. She waited for him to look her in the eyes before she continued. "He is the one who has to initiate it, I believe. And when he does, when he tells us that he wants us to stay with him, then we'll be there and we won't go anywhere."

James blinked up at her now confident, if slightly sad face, and frowned slightly. "When?"

Suddenly, gone was Lily Potter, wife and mother, and arrived had Lily Evans Potter, mischievous and light-hearted woman. "When. I won't accept an 'if'."

James laughed loudly as he saw the infamous smirk on her face, pushed forward and pressed his lips strongly against hers. "Merlin, I love you."

"Oh great, now I have to compete with Merlin? Death wasn't enough, was it?"

Lily screamed as James jumped on top of her and started tickling her with newly acquired energy.

"Mercy! Have Mercy!" she laughed, tears of mirth running down her cheeks.

The pillows had long since abandoned on the ground, the blanket was pushed to the end of the bed. It didn't take long for them to feel the strain of the day, though. Soon, both of them lay on their backs, gasping for air. The occasional giggle escaped them as they calmed down.

The sun was up completely now, illuminating the room to its fullest. The curtains kept the brutal brightness from blinding them.

Lily struggled onto her side and slid closer to James, whose arms immediately wrapped around her, holding her tightly against his warm body.

"It'll be alright," he mumbled as Lily's breathing slowed down. "We'll be alright."

He turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss onto his wife's forehead. They'd figure everything out, he thought with new confidence as he closed his eyes and listened to the red head's soft breathing. Together they would manage anything.

*~*HP*~*

She had not gotten a lot of sleep. The sun was still up and judging by the light intensity, it had to be just past noon.

Hermione groaned and sat up, rubbing her eyes to get rid of the lingering exhaustion. The happenings of the previous day had been exhausting. Picking up Harry's once dead parents was something that she would sure remember for all of her life.

It might sound weird but she had always felt a lot of respect for the Potter family, even before she had met Harry on the train back in first year; respect that bordered on worship. Ever since finding out that she was a witch, she had tried to learn as much about the new world as possible and that, obviously, included reading history books on both old and modern history.

Reading what the Potters had managed to do, what they had done in their lives and how it had ended had left her feeling kind of fascinated. Back then, it had still felt like a dream and reading about protection charms, prophecies, battles and duels only fuelled her fantasy. Reading that Lily Potter herself had been a Muggleborn just like Hermione had made her able to feel herself into that unknown hero that she had started to worship.

Meeting Harry on the Hogwarts Express had been like a push into cold water. She had just started to get used to the idea that magic existed, that she was part of that fantastic world. All of the luck she had believed she had, had not made her even _think_ about the possibility that Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, would be in her year in Hogwarts and would be one of the first people she would talk to and later on even befriend. He had been her first real friend. Never would she have believed that to be possible, but her slowly getting to know Harry, seeing how much he hurt because of that fateful night that she found horrifying yet oddly fascinating made it all too real for her.

In that time she had _really_ understood. She had understood that James Potter had not been a martyr, a hero that died to give the Chosen One the power to defy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She had understood that Lily Potter had not been the heroine that she had worshipped ever since she had picked up that book. She had understood that Harry Potter had not been a character in some kind of thrilling piece of fiction.

No, she had understood that James Potter had been a loving father who had given his life for his family, to protect them, without thinking about it twice. She had understood that Lily Potter had been a desperate mother who would have done anything to save her son’s life, no matter what that would mean to her, and she had understood that Harry Potter had been, and still was, an orphan, a child who had grown up without the love of his parents.

All of that shocking and sad knowledge did nothing about her feelings, though. She worshipped their courage and their love for their son.

Seeing both James and Lily Potter in person last night, seeing them stand in front of them had left her star-struck. She felt absolutely ridiculous and would never admit it even under Veritaserum, not even to Harry, no, _especially_ not to Harry. Telling him she adored his parents and thought they were heroes would probably not sit well with him and would leave them being awkward and that was the last thing that she wanted. No, she would have to do her best to keep the fan girl within herself under control and _breathe_.

She pushed herself off the bed and made her way into the bathroom. First, she needed to freshen up, and then she could start to worry about Harry. She couldn't even imagine how confused he had to be right now....

*~*HP*~*

Harry yawned loudly as he poured himself a big cup of coffee. He had never been that big of a fan of the caffeinated beverage as he had always rather preferred tea over it, but coffee had kind of grown on him during the last few years. He had no idea why. He was probably just getting older.

He could remember all too clearly that he had never really enjoyed eating anything that contained bananas but now? Oh, Hermione made the best banana bread on the whole freaking planet and he would off himself right on the spot if he wouldn’t at least eat half of the bread in one go!

He sighed as he felt the hot liquid run down his throat and heat up every cell in his body. Caffeine had that effect on him. It didn’t necessarily wake him up, but it warmed up his body, loosened his muscles and made him able to relax.

Carefully, as to not spill anything of the burning hot drink, he placed his mug onto the table and went back to the main part of the kitchen to look through the food they stored there. The refrigerator was scarily empty except for one orange, two eggs and a half empty carton of milk. He found a bit of left over cereal in one of the cupboards above the stove, grabbed the milk and prepared himself a sad looking breakfast. He figured he could make some pancakes but then again it was already past noon and he couldn’t be bothered to really do any work right now. It was nearly time for lunch anyway, so why bother in the first place?

Sitting there in the middle of an empty kitchen, forcing the old cereal down, he had no other choice but to let his thoughts wander back to where they had been before he fell asleep. His parents.

There were a lot of questions, more unanswered than not, but he knew one thing for certain – he wanted them to stay.

He wanted to get to know his parents; _really_ get to know them. All he knew about the witch and wizard had been told to him by people who knew them. People like Hagrid, Remus, Sirius – especially Sirius – and even McGonagall had given him small, teeny tiny pieces of information that he had always soaked up like a dry sponge. Every time he heard one of his parents’ names, he would focus on remembering each sentence said, each memory told.

Some days had been spent looking at the pictures he had from them and combining them with the stories he had heard so far, imagining what their voices might sound like whilst laughing, yelling or just talking. He had made up scenarios in which he could come up with how his parents would have reacted. He had done it so often that he had a fixed image in his mind of who his parents had been, but he did not know whether that image was telling the truth. Which it probably wasn’t.

He wanted to have a chance at talking to his dad, telling him about his problems and asking for advice. He wanted to have a chance at listening to his mum scolding him for not washing his hands before dinner and giving him a hug afterwards to show him that she wasn’t really mad.

He wanted to have parents, but he didn’t know if that was still possible. He didn’t know a thing about how a son would behave, or more specifically, how he would have behaved if James and Lily had not given their lives to protect his. He had no idea how to be the son of the Potters and that piece of knowledge was more horrifying than anything he had ever encountered.

What if he did something wrong? What if they had this fixed image of how he had been as a toddler and how they had always imagined him to turn out in their head? What would they do when they found out that he wasn’t anything like that? That he wasn’t an overly joyful person? That he didn’t have the childhood they had wanted him to have and that it changed him more than they had hoped? What if they didn’t like how he turned out?

Harry stared into his bowl of soggy cereal, his spoon held limb in his right hand.

He didn’t want to disappoint them but he was terrified to do exactly that.

So many confused thoughts whirled through his mind that a scratching sound to his right made him jump violently. His hands jerked, spilling the milk over the edges of his half empty cereal bowl. Hermione was sitting on the chair next to him, hair all over the place, tee shirt sliding down her left shoulder, knowing smirk lightening up her beautiful face.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, embarrassed, and reached for his wand to vanish the milk and bowl of cereal. Too late he realised that he just got rid of part of his crockery without meaning to. He sighed loudly and fell back into his chair. He wasn’t in his right mind at the moment and Hermione should confiscate his wand, really. He didn’t want to end up vanishing even more of his belongings.

“What are you thinking about?” Her voice was soft. A warm hand came to rest on his thigh, rubbing small circles onto the fabric of his jeans absentmindedly.

He took a deep breath and placed his hand above hers. He could always count on her to make him calm down, make the chaos in his head go away and even though he might not be able to find a logical solution to a problem, she definitely could.

“Just thinking about my parents.”

Hermione’s hand squeezed gently as she waited for him to continue. She knew he would tell her eventually, that he needed time to sort everything out for himself before he’d be able to talk about it.

“I’ve been wondering,” he mumbled and raised his head to look out of the magical window that he had installed a few months prior. Hermione had complained about the darkness of the room, and he had full-heartedly agreed. “I’ve been wondering about how I’m supposed to act around them, you know? I mean, I should know but I don’t. Ugh, I don’t even know how to put it into words!”

Annoyed, his hands reached for his head and tucked at the hair, mussing it up even more. Hermione winced slightly as she saw the skin of his scalp move slightly.

“They’ve been dead for as long as I remember. They died in their early twenties. We could be siblings theoretically speaking! Imagine me walking through Diagon Alley with Mum and Dad and children who don’t know who they are ask their parents why they never knew I had a brother and a sister? Or at least a brother... Mum doesn’t really look like my sister. I don’t even....”

“Harry, breathe. You’ll find a solution.”

“But what if they think it’s a problem? We’re nearly the same age, Hermione! There’s no way that they’d think it would be appropriate for them to act as if I was still a toddler. Not that I want that, of course, but it would be... nice to... you know.”

The young witch smiled sadly as she looked at her upset boyfriend. His hands were trembling slightly, which he probably didn’t even notice. He was slowly breaking apart underneath the pressure of his worries; it was unsettling to watch, as she knew that she couldn’t do anything that would really help him. The only people who could help calm him were his parents and he did his absolute best at keeping out of their way.

It had started shortly after he had arrived home with James a few hours prior. James had gaped at the hallway in which they had been waiting, not even realising that Harry had sneaked past him and up the stairs, hiding in his bedroom. She had thought about following him but in situations like these, he needed his space. Whenever he didn’t know how to act, he would disappear for a few hours and reappear with a determined expression on his face, ready to face any problem that would be thrown into his path.

Hermione sighed softly and sat up straight. “Harry, I doubt that your mum and dad would do anything except try to build up a relationship to you. No, please let me finish,” she hurried to add, raising one hand, as Harry had started to frown and opened his mouth to answer back.

“They’re your parents, Harry. They have given up their lives for you to have a chance at living yours. They’ve refused to move on into the afterlife in order to stay by your side, even though you have never seen, heard or even known that they have been there. At least Lily. James has given up not only his life but also his magic in order to keep your mum by your side, fully knowing that he might never see you again, and also knowing that you couldn’t see your mum. And now tell me that they did everything that they have done just to cast you away now. It just doesn’t make any sense!”

She gasped for air, her face bright red, having talked herself into one of her infamous frenzies.

Hermione waited for Harry to answer, but when nothing happened after five minutes, she forced him to look at her. Staring at the empty table in front of him wouldn’t help him get over his insecurities. Not that looking at her would help him much, but she at least wanted to believe that. His eyes were oddly dry, yet shining. She took that as a good sign. A crying Harry would mean that it would be trickier to have him see reason.

“You don’t have anything to fear, love,” her thumb traced his jaw line as she looked him in the eye. “It’ll be okay. I know it will be.”

After a few more minutes of silence, just before Hermione wanted to force him to say something, _anything_ , he blinked and took a deep breath. When he started speaking, his voice was shy and sad. “But I don’t know how to act around them.”

She could see that that confession had taken him a lot of courage, but it took her a bit by surprise as that had not been something she would have thought had occupied his mind.

“What do you mean?” She frowned.

Harry lowered his gaze, Hermione’s hands falling away from his cheeks, landing in a limb pile on his right leg. “I don’t know how to be a son, ‘Mione. I mean, sure, I know how a son should act like, but then again I know quite a few _sons_ and all of them act differently. Malfoy is just a damn prat who has made it his mission to please his father. Seamus is talking about his dad as if he’s the best person on the planet, taking him to sports events and being a general good laugh. Ron....”

An odd feeling of sadness mixed with nostalgia flowed through her body, leaving her kind of weightless. She hadn’t had any contact with their former best friend for quite some time now and it had been a few weeks since he had tried to contact them in any way. They hadn’t really heard from any of the Weasleys, come to think of it. It was just very awkward whenever they’d see them, even if they met them in a neutral place like Diagon Alley. 

Having once dated both of the youngest Weasleys made it nearly impossible for Mr and Mrs Weasley to stay impartial. They obviously didn’t want to hurt neither of them, so whenever Mrs Weasley would come and see them, she would insist that she was on their side, that she was disappointed in her children and that Hermione and Harry had done the right thing. Either way, she remained Ron and Ginny’s mother and every mother who was remotely like her would at least partially side with her children. It was only natural.

Thinking back to what had happened wasn’t as painful as it used to be anymore. She was over the pain Ron had caused her. She was happy that Harry had forced the distance between her and the red-head, because otherwise, she was sure, she would not feel as good and genuinely happy as she did now.

Remembering what had happened, though, had left her feeling nothing but regret towards the ginger wizard – regret that their friendship had ended and regret that her trust in him had been completely and utterly destroyed. She didn’t regret ever befriending him or giving their relationship a chance, oh no. She would never regret that! Those had been some of the best years of her life, knowing that Ron and Harry would always be there to draw her into a hug or make her laugh.

Having all of these memories flush through her now made up her mind. She had promised herself that she would never ever want to see that guy ever again, but... they had once been friends that went through thick and thin. That had to mean something... right?

“I miss him,” she heard herself utter the words before she had even decided on saying them out loud. It had just been a random, vulnerable thought.

Blood rushed through her body, making her blush intensely. She hadn’t wanted to say them so bluntly! She had wanted to lessen the impact first. Oh, for the love of the bloody sock of Merlin who had just stepped his toe on a splintery wooden beam!

Before she could somehow save the situation, though, and make it less awkward, she was interrupted by Harry’s deep voice. “I do, too.”

They sat in silence for what felt like a very long time. The sun was travelling over the sky, indicating the time as it flew by.

“Do you think,” Hermione said timidly, well aware that Harry was utterly still next to her, “that we should contact him?”

As he didn’t answer, she tried again. “Do you think he would answer without adding insults and exploding into our faces? Or sending a howler?”

Harry sighed. His biceps jumped, drawing Hermione’s gaze onto it, as he raised his hand to rub his face. “I don’t know.”

Swallowing, she forced herself to think straight. And _not_ think about how delicious his arms looked in that tee shirt that clung to his ski— _no!_

“Do you think we should try contacting him again?”

“I don’t know.”

Maybe they should try and give him a chance but then again, he really did mess everything up. Royally so. She really wanted their former relationship back and she didn’t mean the romantic kind but the best friend kind. She missed her former best friend. She didn’t like the person he had transformed into, but the old Ron had to be there _somewhere_.

They would have to decide some time later, though, as their conversation was interrupted by the sound of two sets of feet walking down the stairs towards the kitchen and the door opening. Harry had to face the imminent _problem_ now, and not make a new one.

She was sure there wasn’t any problem whatsoever, so when she saw Lily and James Potter walk into the room and freeze almost immediately upon seeing that they weren’t alone, she stood up and made her way over to the couple. They would figure it out in their own time, but for that to happen, they needed to be alone.

She squeezed herself through the space between a still James Potter and an even stiller wall and hurried up the stairs, leaving the family to their own devices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Hermione, Hermione... what do you think about the idea of contacting Ron again? Do you think it's a good one and you understand why both Hermione an Harry miss him or would you do the exact opposite and just leave it as it is? Let me know what you'd do!
> 
> I hope you liked what you just read!
> 
> Until next time - see ya! :D


	22. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! The next chapter is completed! 
> 
> I don't know when I'll be able to update this story next. At the latest sometime in July, but I really hope that I'll be able to find some time in between as well. Let's keep our fingers crossed, shall we? :D
> 
> So, without further ado - Enjoy reading :D

**Guilt**

The sound of the kitchen door slamming shut echoed through the deadly silent room.

Harry sat at the table, one hand on its surface, the other on the way to his hair, frozen just centimetres from its target. His parents stood somewhat awkwardly right next to the door, just staring at him.

After what felt like half an hour but could not have been more than two minutes, James’ hand shot up and ruffled his hair. He cleared his throat and gave Harry a shy smile, obviously not comfortable with their current situation. Harry couldn’t keep the thought out of his head that all of them acted like complete strangers in that moment, and immediately regretted thinking that. It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t giving his parents a fair chance and he didn’t even manage to listen to Hermione’s words and give himself a chance at this whole parents-son-thing he had to deal with now.

Lily looked from her husband’s awkward smile to her son’s, which looked eerily similar, and couldn’t stop herself from giggling softly. Two pairs of eyes that couldn’t be more different looked at her, both wide open and hidden behind glass.

“You should see yourselves!” she exclaimed, a huge grin lighting up her young face. “You look absolutely identical!”

And she was right, James thought as he turned back towards his son, who looked at him with a curious mixture of confusion and interest.

He had to agree, they did look oddly similar. Not that he had not noticed that the first time he had been able to lay eye on his son back at Godric’s Hollow. Merlin, even as a _baby_ they had been able to tell that Harry had more of his features than Lily’s. Imagine the pride James had felt upon that realisation, and especially after Lily had admitted that more than obvious fact herself, albeit a bit reluctantly. Now, considering him as an adult pushed him onto the minor details that differed from his exterior, but seeing him in front of him now, with spectacles, the same facial expression and absolutely identical hair, he felt a laugh bubble out of him.

“This is really awkward, isn’t it?” his son said as he stood up and walked over to them. “I really don’t want it to be.”

James shot a sneaky glance over at his wife whose eyes were glistening suspiciously. She got so emotional whenever Harry was the topic of their conversations. Standing in the same room as him and actually being able to talk to him, in the full knowledge that she could just reach over and know that her hand would not pass right through his body made her more than incapable with controlling her feelings.

“It doesn’t have to be,” she all but whispered. She looked up at Harry with a hopeful gaze, returning the stare as her baby boy looked straight back at her without flinching away. Yes, she still liked to call him her baby boy. She couldn’t help it. He was her baby and would always be her baby.

“I...” Harry’s hand ran over his neck as he looked from one parent to the other, both of them waiting patiently for him to start the conversation all of them knew they needed to have. He sighed, clearly not knowing where to start.

“It’s all really weird, isn’t it?” James took pity on him and slowly walked over to the abandoned kitchen chair, trying his best to look as calm as he could. He wanted Harry to think that he had everything under control, he wanted to show his son that he could be strong for him, that Harry could just let go and James would deal with all of the unpleasant stuff that he was currently going through. He wanted that trust so badly, so as he looked back to his son, he had to force the relieved grin out of his face that threatened to make it to the surface as the adult wizard heaved a heavy sigh and started to relax a bit.

“It truly is.”

Harry turned towards Lily and smiled shyly. With one hand motioning her to take a seat, he returned to the kitchen table and slowly lowered himself onto a chair opposite his father’s. It was so weird thinking that. This was his _father_ and _mother_ , damn it, and he was making an utter fool of himself by behaving like a moody teenager.

He had to stop lingering on that feeling, though, if he wanted to see some kind of improvement on his situation and, really, he was the main problem right now. His parents really wanted to talk to him. They were just as nervous and insecure about this whole thing, and he had been the one to do his best to not cross paths with them out of the shear _panic_ that he would have to face his inner turmoil in front of people who loved him.

“I don’t know how to deal with all of this,” the words broke out of him before he could keep them back. A cold wave of panic washed through him, leaving him completely frozen in shock. He had not wanted to say it that bluntly! What was he thinking? Well, he obviously was not thinking right now, or at least not properly so, otherwise he would not just have indirectly insulted the people that had given their everything up just for him to be happy!

“I’m sorry, I...” the words literally got stuck in his throat as he tried to formulate what went through his mind, which was just too much to handle.

“It’s okay,” Harry’s head jerked up at the sound of his mother’s voice. Her cheeks were paler than they had been before he had blabbered out his unfiltered opinion, but her eyes showed a determination that somehow managed to calm him down somewhat. “We feel the same way, believe me, Harry. This is all really weird and although I have been at your side all those years, I have not been able to communicate with you or show you that I have been with you through it all.”

She took a deep breath and turned her brilliant green eyes onto her husband, whose serious expression did not match anything that Harry had heard about him. Once again, Harry was being pushed onto the finding that he did not know much about James Potter. All he knew about him, or thought to know about him he got from third persons like Sirius, Remus or even Dumbledore. Those viewings were biased, though.

A piercing feeling of depression hit Harry straight in the heart. He didn’t want this to be the reality for the future. He really and truly wanted to get to know James Potter, wanted to get to know the man who had loved him so much that he had put him over his own life.

Clearing his throat, James pulled Harry out of his depressed reveries. “This might sound harsh but I’m sure that you’ve thought this as well as we have. It pains me to admit it and everything inside me rejects even the thought, but we haven’t had much time to really get to know you. _I_ haven’t had much time anyways, and it hurts.”

James lifted his eyes off the table’s surface and looked straight into Harry’s. He really wanted to make his son understand, he _needed_ him to understand.

“From what I’ve heard from your mother and Sirius, you haven’t had an easy life. You haven’t had the life and childhood that we have wanted you to have. We have done everything in our power to make sure that even if we wouldn’t get out of the war alive, you would and you would grow up without a worry and regret in the world. It didn’t work out. We failed. We failed not only your Godfather but you as well, most of all we failed you and we are sorry.”

Harry stared at his father, his mouth slightly open, his eyes as wide as saucers. What was going on? What... But he didn’t have time to organise his thoughts as James ran his hand though his messy hair again – an anxious habit, Harry noticed.

“You can’t believe how much I have blamed myself for all of this, son,” his hazel eyes started to glisten slightly as his dad fought against his emotions, too stubborn to let the tears fall. Harry held back a sad smile as he noticed one more thing that he had in common with the man sitting in front of him.

“I have had enough time to figure out that back then I really thought I would be extremely clever to go through with this plan Sirius concocted. It sounded fool-proof. We would tell everyone that Sirius Black, the obvious choice as my best friend, would be our secret keeper and go behind everyone’s backs and switch at the last minute. Sirius was an exceptionally talented wizard and I am sure than he would not have even breathed the smallest hint as to where we were hiding if he would have been tortured by Voldemort’s goons.  I knew back then, right when your mother and I decided on Sirius that we would not regret it.

“Choosing Sirius as our secret keeper, though, would put my best friend and brother in as much danger as you had been in and everything in me refused to force him through this, but I didn’t see another choice in order to keep you safe and far away from harm. We have tried everything before. We have moved house a couple of times, we have put up the strongest shields and charms around the properties but every single time they managed to find us. Now I know why, but back then I thought it an abomination to even remotely _think_ that one of my best friends had switched sides and was helping a monster to try and kill my son.

“So we planned to go through with it. We asked Sirius whether he would be willing to serve as our secret keeper, filling him in on the risks he would take if he agreed and he, being the idiot that he was, agreed.”

Lily pulled her chair slightly towards James’ and leant onto his shoulder as the first tear slid down his face. He didn’t look at her but wrapped one arm around her waist to pull her closer. Harry himself was taking deep, slow breaths as he felt the distinct burning sensation in his throat and behind his eyes.

“Dumbledore had offered to act as the secret keeper himself but for some reason we thought we couldn’t have him do it. He had so many responsibilities even without worrying about the fact that he had the control over three lives, one of which belonged to a mere one year-old boy.”

James shot Harry a teary smile. His eyes showed so much love and devotion that Harry had trouble breathing. He wasn’t used to that kind of love and he didn’t know how to deal with it. He didn’t understand that having parents was supposed to be just like that – being loved unconditionally, no matter what.

“Sirius was more than scared when he told Dumbledore one evening that he would be our secret keeper, but seeing as he loved you like his own son, he went through with it. He wouldn’t have begged me to switch to Peter if he hadn’t thought it would be the most brilliant plan that would work even better than having him go through the charm, so we agreed. We trusted Sirius’ judgement more than we trusted our own and that turned out to be a mistake.

“Now, don’t get me wrong, I trusted him with my life throughout the whole period of it but I should have sticked to the original plan. Knowing that I would have condemned him to a life of hiding himself, knowing full well what that was like, I guess my conscience was bad enough as it was, so I talked your mother into agreeing as well. You have no idea how much I regretted that very decision.

“By going through with it I sold both you and your mother to Voldemort and I have not forgiven myself for that. I am the reason that ruined your entire life and I am the reason that you had to grow up without parents that helped you through your days, and I am so very sorry. If I had the chance to do it all again, I would change so much! I would accept Dumbledore’s offer to be our secret keeper, keeping Sirius out of the target line of the Death Eaters. No-one would have dared approach Albus if that person hadn’t been a part of the Order.

“I guess what I want to say is that we don’t blame you for thinking that we’re both complete strangers to you because that’s what we are. It doesn’t matter how much it hurts to know that and how much it tears both of us up inside, we do know that this is the truth and we can’t blame you for not knowing how to act around us or for avoiding us all together, because, yes, we did notice.”

His dad smirked cheekily at Harry’s blushing cheeks. “It’s totally okay, you can believe me. We understand. I mean, we don’t have much of a choice, do we? I made the hippogriff run into the wall, so I am the one to have to watch the cottage crumble to pieces and wave my wand to put the roof back to where it belongs.”

Harry smiled a teary smile as he heard the undoubtedly pureblood phrase.

“I am so very sorry, Harry. I wanted nothing more than to keep you safe and I completely ruined it. I hope that you can forgive me and give us a chance at being your parents because that’s what we want to be again. We know,” he hurried to act as Harry sniffed and started to wipe away the tears that had escaped his eyes, “we know that we have not had much of a chance to do that yet and we also know that, to outsiders, we could be your siblings, but we really want to do this right. We love you, Harry. We love you more than anything. Please let us be the parents that you were supposed to grow up with. We have missed so much of your life as it is, we can’t miss even more.”

Silence followed after James’ monologue. Lily had tears running down her cheeks freely; James and Harry were still unsuccessfully fighting theirs.

He was speechless. Harry had never have thought that his dad would blame himself for what happened to them – or at least not as much as he had just told him. The man hugging his mother right now was filled with guilt and he didn’t know how to make him feel better, how to lift the massive weight off of his shoulders.

Harry knew what it felt like blaming oneself for the death of another person. It had been the same with him and Sirius’ death, but he had to admit to himself that compared to the grief his father seemed to be feeling after so many years, his pain was barely something to mention. It ate him up from the inside out and he could see how much this talk had taken out of the black-haired wizard. He was trembling slightly and clutching onto his wife so tightly that it looked slightly uncomfortable. His mum on the other hand didn’t bat a lash. She held her husband close and whispered something into his ears. Slowly but surely Harry could see James’ stiff posture sag and his muscles relax somewhat.

“I don’t blame you, you know?” His parents jumped slightly at the sound of his low voice.

Harry ran his hand through his hair, making it stand on up in every direction, completely defying gravity. He didn’t see the soft look that his parents’ eyes adopted as he looked at his hands that were lying on the table’s surface. He took a deep breath and forced himself to look both of them in the eye. He being uncomfortable with talking about his feelings wasn’t important right now. He couldn’t let his father live on like that.

“I have never blamed you for anything that happened. I don’t know whether you know but when I was little, I used to ask Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon about the two of you a lot. I wasn’t supposed to ask questions and I knew that, but I just needed to know. After a few hours in the cupboard Aunt Petunia finally told me what had happened to you,” Harry tried his best to keep the resentment he felt towards his so-called relatives out of his voice. He wanted to sound as detached as possible. After all these years it was still difficult for him to talk about his childhood and doing so in front of his parents wasn’t only painful for him but also for them. He did his best to ignore the way his father’s hands turned into fists and how his mother’s smaller ones came to rest on top of his, trying to get the tension out of them.

“I had a feeling that what she had told me was wrong because her story just didn’t fit into the image that I had fixed in my head. Back then I didn’t blame you, at least not really, and when I found out what really happened to you, I didn’t blame you either. Maybe even less so than before. What you did was very brave and selfless and I owe you my life. Thanks to you I had the chance to live and turn this messed up world into a better place. For you, for the people living in here, for my friends and for everyone that I hold dear.

“What I want to say is that I couldn’t be more thankful. You gave me life and you made sure that I’d keep it, no matter what. I would do the same for you, Hermione and Teddy without thinking twice. Hell, I _have done_ the exact same thing for the whole wizarding world,” Harry laughed awkwardly and blushed slightly at the looks his parents were shooting him.

“You don’t have to blame yourself for anything that has happened, Dad. It was out of your control. You did what you had to do in order to keep your family safe and I couldn’t be more thankful for that.”

James stared at his son, his wonderful, beautiful son, and felt the tears wet his face, but he didn’t care. He felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders, a weight that he had grown used to over the last two decades, a weight that had become a part of him. He could breathe again. He could feel his heart beat against his ribcage again. He could feel Lily’s warm hands on his, holding onto him as she sobbed quietly.

Harry sniffed and brushed his hands over his face. He felt wetness where the tears had left trails on his cheeks. Slowly, he stood up and made his way over to his parents, whose eyes were following his every step.

“I may be too old to say this,” his voice trembled slightly as he came to a halt a mere metre away from the two older Potters, “but I really don’t care right now. I need you. I always have and I always will.”

As if in trance, James stood up, pulling Lily out of her chair. He couldn’t stop staring at the young man in front on him, even as said wizard started fidgeting nervously. A slightly trembling hand that tousled messy, black hair pulled him back into reality.

With a big step, he closed the distance between himself and his son and pulled him into the most crushing embrace Harry had ever felt. Tears were flowing freely, but no-one seemed to notice as Harry’s arms wrapped themselves around his father’s back, pulling him even closer. Smaller, more fragile arms wound themselves around his waist and turning his head slightly to the right, he saw his mum grinning up at him, her bright green eyes that were so similar to his sparkled with love and adoration.

Harry felt as if his whole world fell into place at that exact moment. He had Hermione who would always be by his side and, best of all, he had his parents back. He still couldn’t believe it. He had his family back!

After a long moment of silence that was only broken by declarations of love and forgiveness, James pulled back slightly and looked at his son with a newfound fascination. Upon shooting his mother a confused glance, she merely raised a slim eyebrow, smirking knowingly and grinned at his father, whose eyes were narrowing slightly.

“Say, Harry,” his voice was slightly hoarse from the emotions that had taken up a lot of his energy, “who exactly is this Teddy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! I hope you liked it! This chapter was a tricky one.
> 
> I always find it unbelievable and really odd if Harry just accepts his parents' return in all but two seconds and behaves as if they've known each other all of his life. A lot of Jily-return fanfictions do that... I didn't want to, so I hope this chapter was okay :)
> 
> Tell me what you guys think :D
> 
> Until next time - see ya! :D


	23. Something Abnormal in a Normal Neighbourhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S WORKING!!! Enjoy this new chapter, guys!

**Something Abnormal in a Normal Neighbourhood**

“Say, Harry,” his voice was slightly hoarse from the emotions that had taken up a lot of his energy, “who exactly is this Teddy?”

Harry gaped at his suspicious looking father and his grinning mother.

Did they think that... no. No, they couldn’t, could they? He was way too young for that! Well, that argument wasn’t really valid with the other two, was it? They married when they were just out of Hogwarts; at age eighteen! Merlin’s beard, he would have been married by now if he had found the one soon enough. Well, he had found her soon enough, hadn’t he? He had merely been too thick-headed to figure it out in time. Oh hell, what if Hermione wanted to marry him? Now? He wasn’t ready yet! He just got his life back and wanted to enjoy it! But to marry the girl he loved... Harry had to admit that there was something in him that caused warmth to spread through his veins upon thinking that.

Hermione Potter, he thought with a wistful smile on his face. That did have a nice ring to it, didn’t it? Would she want to take on his name or was she one of those few who insisted on keeping their maiden name? Maybe she wanted a double name? Hermione Granger-Potter. Hermione Potter-Granger? Nah, Hermione Potter clearly sounded better. Mr and Mrs Harry James Potter. The Potters.

Whenever someone said that they always referred to his parents, but then they would mean him and Hermione. What was the reason that he didn’t want to commit just yet? He had forgotten.

James’ eyes widened slowly as he watched the emotions wash over his son’s face. He couldn’t believe it. He was a grandfather. He – James Potter – was a granddad. Somewhere in this town there was a little boy or girl named Teddy, who was staying with Merlin knew whom just so that their dad could talk to their grandparents. At least he hoped Harry had made sure his kid was with someone who lived in this town. He didn't know how he felt with the possibility that his grandchild was on the other side of the country. And who was the young one staying with? A friend? Maybe Hermione's parents? Oh, he hoped the latter. It didn't exactly calm him down thinking about the possibility of it being a friend... He might be prejudiced, hell, he was prejudiced, but he couldn't help it. Bad experience and stuff....

A child. Pride flooded through the young wizard as he imagined his son pushing a pram through Diagon Alley, Hermione at his side, and their child – his and Lily’s grandchild – constantly asking for ice cream. The kid would have Harry’s eyes, of course. They were just too gorgeous to not put them into the girl or boy. But....

Wait a second... He couldn’t be a granddad yet! He hadn’t been a dad for long enough! Merlin, what should he do? He was too young! Hell, he and Lily were twenty-one years old for Morgana’s sake, and Harry here went out and made them premature grandparents? That’s too soon! He was too young! He wasn’t even twenty yet and he already had a little one to care for and look after! What should he do? He had to play the supportive and mature parent and stay calm in a situation like this but Merlin’s beard, how was he supposed to stay calm now?!

Lily looked from her son, who was clearly only bodily present, to her husband, who was slowly panicking judging by his shallow breathing and his shocked facial expression. As amusing as watching them may be, she decided to swallow her excitement and pull her son out of his, obviously, happy thoughts and her husband back to a normal heart rate.

"How old is Teddy? Is that a nickname for a girl or are we talking about a little boy?"

Harry blinked and looked over to his mother, who was smiling encouragingly at him.

"Teddy is a boy," Harry said in a calm voice. His eyes zoned in on his father whose reaction he was very curious to see. "He was born shortly before the end of the war."

He watched James closely. What he had just said should have made it obvious that he wasn't the boy's biological father. He trusted them to instinctively know that he would not have allowed something like this to happen - not with the situation he, and undoubtedly Hermione in their opinion, had been in.

When the two Potters didn't show any reaction other than looking at him with sparkles, and in James' case slight apprehension, in their eyes, Harry took a deep breath. He forced his hand back to his side as it twitched to run through his hair – a nervous habit that he had adopted some time during his time at Hogwarts.

"His parents died during the final battle."

James frowned but didn't say anything. He had a vague suspicion and one part in him wanted it to be true. The other, bigger part, the part that was at the forefront and had been dominant throughout the first war ever since he had found out Lily and he were expecting was screaming and yelling. He knew what it was like to not be able to protect his son from the war and from his and Lily's untimely death. He knew what that had done to Harry. He didn't want another Marauder's child to go through the same.

Lily knew what Harry was about to say as she had been by his side when Remus had asked him to be the boy's godfather, but had thought it best to let her son explain it himself. News like this should always come from the person being directly involved and not from some third party who had found out without anyone knowing.

"Some time during the few weeks we spent at Grimmauld Place, Remus came by and asked me to be his and Tonks' son's godfather. And I agreed. Best thing I could have done!" Harry grinned widely as he saw his dad exhale sharply.

"Teddy is amazing. He inherited Tonks' Megamorphmagus abilities and Remus' brain. He's so smart for his age and he obviously uses that brain for mischief. Whenever Andromeda takes him to Diagon Alley, he thinks it's hilarious to change his appearance every few minutes, giving poor Andy a near heart attack every time she looks at him. She can never be sure how he looks like. He loves copying the looks of everyone around him. Whenever I visit them, he goes for black hair and green eyes."

Harry laughed and shook his head, fondly thinking about his godson.

"No-one can really stop him. We hope that he'll get bored with age."

James smiled as he listened to the stories of mischief his friend's son had gotten himself into. He couldn't help but feel sorry for Remus. He knew there were ways for those who went on to follow the lives of the living, but he also knew that was as much torture as it was a blessing.

One thing that he was one hundred percent sure of was that Teddy would not grow up unloved and ignored like Harry had. He had people who adored him. That much James was sure of as he watched his son animatedly recapitulate how Teddy had managed to make his grandmother look for him for one whole day before Hermione had come around and had found him in the broom cupboard, skin as grey as the stone wall behind him and hair as coarse and brown as the brooms' twigs.

Teddy would grow up with family and would never feel as if he was missing the essential - his parents. Harry would make sure of that.

“Will we get to see him someday?” Lily asked. She wanted to meet the little boy in person and see how much of one of her best friend she’d be able to find in him. She glanced up at her husband who was watching Harry with a soft, yet sad smile.

“Of course you will,” their son exclaimed. “You don’t even need to ask. We planned on picking him up sometime this week, actually, because it’s been a while since we’ve spent some time with him. He’s quite a handful and Andromeda isn’t the youngest, so we help her whenever we can. The last few weeks have been a bit... hectic... so we couldn’t really get him involved in any of it, you know?”

Lily nodded slowly and tried not to show how much she regretted that they had kept Harry from his godson. He obviously loved him like his own, so it had to be difficult to keep his distance. Knowing that James and she weren’t to be held responsible for it didn’t really help with the sudden burst of guilt.

“Let us know if we can help, yeah?” James’ voice was quiet and soft as he addressed his son. “We might not be very experienced parents but we do know how to handle a toddler.” He winked at the younger wizard, who immediately blushed deep red.

*~*HP*~*

Lily found her husband on their bed a few hours later. She had convinced Harry to take Hermione out for a few hours to give the two lovebirds some alone time and because she knew that both she and James needed the time to talk.

James knew about Remus dying during the battle. He knew about Sirius passing away, even meeting him shortly after, even knew about what happened to Pettigrew. She had made sure that she was the one telling him what happened to his former best friends, but being confronted with the consequence of that knowledge hit the young wizard hard. It reminded him of what had happened to them all those years ago. Hell, it reminded her of that very night that destroyed everything they had lived for.

She sighed softly as she slowly made her way from the doorway she had been standing in over to the double bed that had been theirs for the last couple of days. It still felt weird being part of the real world again, she thought, as her hand brushed over the soft blanket covering the comfortable mattress.

James’ head turned slightly, acknowledging her present, but he didn’t say anything.

Minutes went by as they sat next to each other, blinking as the sun shone through the windows, blinding them. Lily’s fingers lightly traced random patterns over James’ back, softly brushing over the fabric of his jumper, barely strong enough for him to feel anything but the passing warmth radiating off of her skin.

A sigh was the first sound one of them did. Lily rubbed at her tired eyes and blinked slowly as James turned around and looked at her questioningly. A sad smile crept onto her face as she pushed a stubborn strand of jet-black hair out of her husband’s handsome face.

“This is all too familiar, isn’t it?”

James nodded slightly, taking a deep breath.

“You know what this makes me want to do? Like really want to do? Preferably in this very moment?”

Ginger eyebrows slowly rose to an equally ginger hairline before a sparkle lit up emerald green, imitating the mischief in the hazel eyes.

“I really, really want to go and see the family.”

*~*HP*~*

Petunia Dursley was proud to lead a normal life with a normal husband and a normal son in a normal neighbourhood in a more than normal part of England, Surrey. She was a rather unimpressive middle-aged woman. Her straight blond hair hung around her face in a strict fashion, not a single strand out of place. Her light blue dress was buttoned up perfectly and decorated with a light belt made out of the same material. It reached to her knees, slightly covering them.

All in all, Petunia Dursley was a woman you would not immediately notice when walking past her on the street or in the supermarket, except for when her darling son, Dudley, was of the opinion that he desperately needed this and that and it was necessary to demand it very loudly in front of everyone. In situations like this, her husband, Vernon Dursley, would usually chuckle merrily and pat his son’s thin blond hair that covered his circle-round head, muttering about how proud he was that his heir knew how to say what was on his mind and how to get his will.

Humming to herself, said housewife held a spatula in her right hand and the handle of the frying pan in her left hand. Six strips of bacon were sizzling merrily in their grease, waiting to be served to both husband and son, former reading the newspaper, latter having his eyes practically glued onto the flat screen TV that was located not two metres away from the dinner table. Sitcom laughter echoed through the sun-lit kitchen, soon followed by content chuckles of the blond boy currently chewing on a sausage.

“The premier still hasn’t quit,” Vernon Dursley muttered, shaking his head disapprovingly at the newspaper. “That man who calls himself the political head of this country is a disgrace!”

“Don’t worry about it, Vernon dear, and eat your breakfast,” Petunia chirped happily and piled three strips of greasy bacon on top of his scrambled eggs with sausages. “No need to fret about it.”

“Petunia, this man is leading our country! He is leading the country that we raise our son in. How are we supposed to teach Dudley how politics work if the head of said politics is a good-for-nothing no-good, huh? Tell me that!”

Petunia sighed softly, letting her husband rant off some steam. Ever since the boy wasn’t staying at their house during the summer anymore, life had become more difficult for them to handle. Don’t get her wrong, she thanked the heavens for these lucky circumstances, because who wanted to house filth in the first place, but she had to admit that her summers had been a lot less stressful when he had been around, helping her with her daily chores and giving her husband an opportunity to let of some steam, not to mention Dudley, who more often than not complained about being bored during the summer. Vernon had brought up the idea of him getting a job and maybe even a flat of his own, but Petunia wouldn’t hear any of that. Her Duddikins was too young to live on his own. She needed to make sure he got enough to eat and enough clean clothes to wear, after all.

She put the last three pieces of bacon onto her son’s plate and drizzled the left over grease over his eggs. He needed all of the nutrients that he could get, especially after that horrid diet the school’s nurse had him on for so long.

So as the door bell rang, she didn’t think anything about it. It was a Saturday after all. It could be the post man bringing one of Duddy’s orders or even one of the neighbours wanting to invite her over for a cup of tea. Little did she know that on this very Saturday morning, her whole life would twist around 180 degrees and kick her right in the face.

His wife’s horrified shriek had Vernon pull his body out of the kitchen chair and hurry towards the front door where Petunia gaped at two people, a man and a woman, who should have been dead for well over a decade.

The man had unruly black hair that stuck up into every direction, glasses that perched crookedly on his long nose and was smirking devilishly at his wife. The woman however had long, deep red hair that hung over her shoulders in straight strands that moved slightly in the wind. Her bright green eyes sparkled dangerously. She did not look happy.

“You’re dead!” shrieked Petunia Dursley and raised a trembling finger to point at her sister and brother-in-law.

“Obviously. That’s why we’re standing on your door step,” the black-haired man, who Vernon knew as James Potter, said sarcastically and watched the red-haired woman push past him and into the house.

“We need to have a word with you. Or maybe two. It could turn out to be three as well,” he continued, strolling after his wife and into Vernon’s very normal hallway, “and we need you two to give us your undivided attention,” he pulled out a long, brown stick and flicked it towards the front door, causing it to slam shut. ”We need you to listen without interrupting us,” he twitched the stick towards the inner part of the house to cause Petunia’s stuttering words to break off immediately, “and we need you to know that we are more than furious.”

Vernon gulped, his eyes widened as he saw the man move further into his house towards the kitchen and living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no. Lily is pissed. James is pissed. Vernon and Petunia are in some serious trouble!
> 
> I hope you liked it! 
> 
> Until next time - see ya! :D


	24. Magical Energy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On with the next chapter! We don't have a lot left, so enjoy it :D

**Magical Energy**

_“We need to have a word with you. Or maybe two. It could turn out to be three as well,” he continued, strolling after his wife and into Vernon’s very normal hallway, “and we need you two to give us your undivided attention,” he pulled out a long, brown stick and flicked it towards the front door, causing it to slam shut. ”We need you to listen without interrupting us,” he twitched the stick towards the inner part of the house to cause Petunia’s stuttering words to break off immediately, “and we need you to know that we are more than furious.”_

_Vernon gulped, his eyes widened as he saw the man move further into his house towards the kitchen and living room._

Harry scratched his head as yet another surge went through his body. He had no idea as to what was going on. In one moment he was standing in front of his wardrobe wondering what he should wear to his date with Hermione and in the next he was sitting on the floor feeling slightly dizzy. Was he getting a cold or something?

It was the weirdest feeling in the world, like something was attached to his body and was pulling with all its might. _No_ , Harry thought. Not attached to his body. It was like it was something in him – like his bones wanting out? No, that sounded wrong as well. He had no idea what it felt like because he had never experienced anything like it before, making it difficult for him to put it into words.

He shook his head, hair flying everywhere and glasses sliding down his long nose. It didn’t matter now anyways. It was probably some kind of wizard’s flu or something. He had no clue if something like that existed, but keeping in mind what _did_ exist, he wouldn’t be surprised if this was something as common as hay fever.

Harry picked himself up off the floor. He needed to get a move on or otherwise he would be late for the date that had been his idea and Hermione would make sure that he would regret dawdling.

*~*HP*~*

Hermione smiled as she saw the familiar mob of black hair swaying in the wind, quickly followed by a glint of sunlight reflecting off of his round spectacles. It was nice to not be recognised and followed everywhere for once, she thought, sighing contently as she took in the street leading to the Muggle restaurant she was standing in front of.

A soft voice made her turn her head to her left. “Hey,” he said, leaning forward to softly kiss her lips. Hermione hummed approvingly, enjoying the simple, yet sweet gesture.

“Hey,” she answered, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

She knew it was ridiculous to still feel giddy like a love-sick teenager whenever he kissed, touched or just looked at her, but she quickly shook her head. It was good to still be head over heels in love, wasn’t it? This was different than with Ron. This felt _real_ , like it would like a lifetime and then some. That thought made her heart beat calm down and a pleasurable warmth spread through her body. Thinking of Ron still made her uneasy and intellectually she knew that she would eventually have to face that topic again, but it made her feel weak and vulnerable; a feeling she didn’t like. She knew that nothing would happen to her ever again, Harry would make sure of that, but still. She couldn’t help but feel insecure.

As Harry made his way through the people mingling and chatting on the streets, he took his time to take in her whole being. She was still in her blouse and skirt combo, sporting uncomfortable-looking and scarily high heels, but he couldn’t help but feel his stomach flip at the sight. Hermione had always preferred flat shoes, not feeling comfortable and safe enough to trust the peace the world was at, always reading to run and fight, so seeing her in those scary-looking shoes was quite the treat that he knew to appreciate.

“How did the interview go?” he asked, seeing the glazed over brown eyes snap to him and the far-away look to disappear.

“It went well, I think,” pulling the strap of her handbag back over her shoulder, she took his hand and let him lead her into the restaurant. “First they were acting like everyone else does when they talk to me. I don’t know who they thought would come to the interview, but apparently my name on the invitation they had sent me wasn’t enough of a warning. They asked questions about anything but the job itself. ‘ _Why have you not applied to the Auror division, Ms. Granger?_ ’, ‘ _Why have your friends, the rest of the Golden Trio, not applied for the Auror programme?_ ’” she shook her head disapprovingly and smiled as a laughing Harry pulled back a chair for her to sit in.

“Anyway, as they got over the fact that my name and my friends are common knowledge,” Harry snickered, “they finally started asking why I was so interested in working for the Department for the Restriction and Control of Magical Creatures, which led to a lengthy discussion about how the laws concerning house elves need to be revised. But I still got out of there in time to make it here and since I wasn’t late and they seemed to actually be interested in what I had to say about the welfare of the elves in particular, I’m quite positive that it went well. At least I hope so. And,” she continued, twirling some spaghetti that Harry had ordered during her monologue onto her fork, “if they actually think I might be the right person for the job, I will start working on picking apart the stupid prejudices people have about werewolves. Seeing Remus suffer as much as he did was too horrid to actually allow the mistreatment of werewolves to be a normal and acceptable thing. If I’m in the position to do some good, I will do my best. For Remus. And Teddy.”

Hermione took a deep breath, causing Harry, who had silently listened to his girlfriend’s rant, to chuckle, amused.

“That was one hell of a speech,” he said and pointed his fork, complete with a piece of beef pierced onto its teeth, at Hermione, “and I would be very surprised if they didn’t see your potential. Want to bet that you’ll have a job come next week at the latest?”

Harry smirked at Hermione’s blush and bit into the now rather cold piece of beef.

“You think so?” She looked down onto her plate absentmindedly twirling the spaghetti onto her fork. “You don’t think I overdid it? I mean,” she cleared her throat and looked up at Harry who was mid-cut into his steak and froze at her worried gaze. “I mean, you know how I was at Hogwarts,” she continued, voice speaking softly.

Harry had to watch her lips in order to fully understand what she way saying. Her low voice made sure no Muggle in the restaurants could hear her, but it also showed, despite how confident she had seemed just a moment ago, how insecure she still was.

“ _Bossy, know-it-all Granger_ ,” she muttered, solely focussing on the food in front of her. She had lost her appetite. “What if I overwhelmed the with it all or what if they thought it to be a naive point of view or saw it as an attack of some sort or –“

“Hermione.”

The anxious witch looked up at the bespectacled man in front of her, tears visible in her chocolate eyes.

“Showing so much passion and interest in a topic, no matter what topic,” he added, successfully making her shut her mouth and listen, “is something positive. The people you’re talking to don’t necessarily have to agree with you. That is not what is important for them. They’re not looking for someone who has the exact same views on the world as they do. What would happen to any kind of company, Ministry or not, if all of the employees were of the same opinion? There wouldn’t be much of a future for said company anymore. Different points of view are important, especially for an institution such as the Ministry of Magic. So what you being passionate about a subject tells others is that you get invested in it, that you care about something enough for you to speak up and that is what an employer is looking for.”

Hermione still looked doubtful, so Harry tried another method.

“Okay,” he said, pushing his half-eaten meal away from him and leaning forward, “imagine a Quidditch team.”

Hermione snickered, rolling her eyes lovingly at her boyfriend.

“I’m trying here,” he said, allowing himself a short second to grin before he got serious again, “imagine a Quidditch team, playing after the same strategy time and time again. At first, they might be successful because everyone in the team knows what they’re doing and what they are supposed to do. The opposite team, though, figures their strategy out. They know each and every one’s weaknesses and since our team’s captain remains stubborn and holds onto the old strategy, our team starts losing game after game until, one day, a new captain gets assigned and takes over the team’s managing and starts training them differently. They start practicing different moves that lead to their first win in a long while.

“You see? Different points of view on a certain matter aren’t always a bad thing. The team might not agree with the captain at first, but after one match or two they will see how much better their new tactics are. They might even want to mix them with the old and traditional ones that made out their team’s style of playing. Now, I’m not saying you should immediately take over the Ministry,” Hermione laughed out loud, nearly choking on her water, “but I’m not saying that’s not a possibility in the future.”

He winked at her.

After a short while, the bushy-haired witch smiled at her boyfriend, tears again glistening in her eyes; this time for a different reason.

“Thank you,” she said in earnest, reaching over the table and taking his hand in hers. “You are amazing, you know that?”

“You are more so. You’re an incredibly strong woman. You just don’t give yourself enough credit.” He squeezed her hand gently as he waved for the waiter. She would understand and accept it eventually, he figured as he paid for their half-eaten meals and assured the worried waiter that nothing had been wrong with the food and to tell the chef that it had been delicious and they would come again very soon.

As he stood up, waiting for Hermione to pick up her handbag, a surge of dizziness hot him so violently that he started to sway and had to quickly grip onto the table for support to keep himself from falling over. White spots invaded his field of vision which he desperately tried to blink away, accompanied by a swooshing sound that made it difficult to hear anything apart from it.

“Harry!” Hermione dropped her bag and hurried to the other side of the table which her boyfriend was grabbing onto for dear life. His knuckles were turning white from the sheer force of his grip. She quickly grabbed hold of his other arm, trying to steady him somehow. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

It didn’t seem as if he could hear her. His face was pale and had an unhealthy sheen to it. His eyes were clenched shut and the hand she was clutching in hers was cold and trembled ever so slightly.

“Are you alright, Sir?” a waitress asked, looking worriedly at the unresponsive wizard before her. “Do you want me to call an ambulance?”

“No,” Hermione squeezed Harry’s hand, feeling it move slightly in hers. “Thank you, but it will be fine. I’ll get him to a doctor myself. Come on, Harry,” she added softly, as she took her handbag the waitress had picked up off the floor and started to slowly move her boyfriend out of the restaurant, hoping that the Muggles would soon stop staring.

As soon as she had managed to manoeuvre the trembling man into a small alleyway, Harry slid down the wall onto the floor, put his head in between his legs and tried to breathe. What was happening to him? This wasn’t some kind of flu, this was something bigger, he thought numbly as he slowly started to feel the dizziness subside and his hearing to return to normal. He was shivering and his whole body was covered in a thin layer of cold sweat.

“Harry,” Hermione’s voice had him slowly raise his head and lean back against the hard brick wall of the building behind him. He had no idea how they had gotten into this alleyway, but right now that wasn’t his main concern. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

Warm hands grabbed onto his shoulders as the worried face of Hermione appeared in front of him as she knelt down.

“I don’t know,” his voice was weak as he tried to put the indescribable incidents he had had all day into words. “It started earlier today. I don’t know how to explain it, really, but it felt as if something pulled something out of me that isn’t meant to be pulled out. Something like that. I don’t know. It sounds stupid, I can’t explain it. All I know is that it happened twice today but never as strong as it did just now.”

Hermione’s pale face pulled into a worried frown as she reached into her bag to pull out her wand. She mumbled something under her breath and waved it over him in an elegant twirl. If Harry hadn’t been as tired as he was, he would have paid enough attention to identify the movement as a diagnostic charm.

“You’re totally exhausted,” she said, wide eyes on the deep orange light his body had started to emit.

“Oh, really. I wouldn’t have guessed,” Harry deadpanned and scowled at his girlfriend.

“Stop rolling your eyes at me, Harry, you know that’s not what I meant!” Hermione clicked her tongue disapprovingly as she gently helped him stand up and motioned him to grab onto her arm, moving to apparate them back home.

“I meant your magical core. It is nearly completely depleted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least one of you has figured out what is happening with Harry xD (even before I had this chapter fully written)  
> Next up: Jily vs Dursley. Who will win?  
> I hope you liked this chapter! Until next time - see ya! :D


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